


Just One Word

by whateverhappens



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Coming Out, Communication, Cultural Differences, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Explicit Chapters Will be Labeled, F/F, Fluff, Grief, Internalized Homophobia, Mental Illness, Self-Love, Smut, opposite of a slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2021-04-19
Packaged: 2021-04-21 20:34:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 54,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22111207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whateverhappens/pseuds/whateverhappens
Summary: Outside of her hut, she’s Maren. But in these walls, Elsa only ever calls her Honey. Neither of them are sure of exactly why this is, but Honeymaren craves the sound of her name shortened on Elsa’s tongue when the door shuts behind them, and Elsa is always hungry to say it so long as they are alone._____With the gates of Arendelle open for good, Elsa is finally able to cozy up to a hard-earned sense of peace in the forest. Honeymaren has since welcomed her with open arms, but when she feels something tug on the door she’s spent her entire life keeping shut, Elsa only knows how to do one thing: freeze.At the same time, Honeymaren is finally able to open herself up to the wonders beyond the mist now that the dam has been broken. Among these wonders is Elsa, someone who has held every piece of her obscured past with endless understanding. Yet, Honeymaren still finds that some things are best kept behind a locked door.
Relationships: Anna & Elsa (Disney), Elsa/Honeymaren (Disney), Honeymaren & Ryder Nattura
Comments: 283
Kudos: 657





	1. Just Us (E)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY. So. This is my first smut and posting this is _**very**_ out of my comfort zone. Please be gentle. 
> 
> This is also my first attempt at writing in present tense, so please excuse any slip ups.
> 
> **This chapter is explicit.**
> 
> **(If you want to read this fic but aren’t interested in the physical intimacy, skip ahead to chapter 4! You should be able to follow along well enough without reading the explicit chapters. If you ever need to skip a chapter due to warnings but would like a summary in the end note, let me know! You can drop an anonymous ask on tumblr @doctorthedoctor if that's more comfortable)**

_“Honey…”_ Elsa pants against her mouth as they part. Honeymaren rolls her bottom lip between her teeth and smirks. Outside of her hut, she’s Maren. But in these walls, Elsa only ever calls her Honey. Neither of them are sure of exactly why this is, but Honeymaren craves the sound of her name shortened on Elsa’s tongue when the door shuts behind them, and Elsa is always hungry to say it so long as they are alone. 

Their clothes are long gone by this point, sprinkled throughout the hut like breadcrumbs leading to the cushion of pelts making up Honey’s bed. They lie on their sides, eyes lusting after each other as they catch their breath. Honey runs her hand down Elsa’s body, tracing over every peak and valley, and leaves trails of goosebumps in her wake. Her quest stops at Elsa’s hips and she pulls her close with haste. They still for a moment, soaking in the feel of one another, and then their lips meet again, bodies rocking with need in a tangled mess. The kiss deepens and Honey slips her tongue through to brush against Elsa’s, pushing her thigh between her legs as she does. Elsa tightens her grip around Honey’s neck, gasping at the contact and earning a smug moan in return.

“Move against me,” Honey whispers. “Like this.” She clamps one hand around Elsa’s waist, intently guiding her hips to start rolling. Elsa’s breathing grows heavier as she becomes more confident, sliding into a steady rhythm against her skin. Honey smiles and uses her free hand to sweep strands of blond hair out of her face. “Good girl,” she purrs. She feels odd at first, she’s not sure what makes her say it, but after hearing the reaction it stirs...well, she’s not complaining, either.

Elsa shudders and curls into her shoulder, pressing her mouth against Honey to stifle what would’ve been a load moan. As they move together, Honey’s lips wander along her jawline down to the exposed area of her neck, punctuating each maneuver with gentle pecks. Once she’s there, she grazes her teeth against Elsa’s pulse point before nipping and sucking lightly at the spot.

“Aah—” Elsa chokes out and stills, unable to maintain the pressure on Honey’s thigh as buzzing sensations ripple from her neck. Honey stops herself before she leaves a mark; it would be too difficult to hide in that spot and she knows how anxious Elsa gets. They hear people shuffle past the hut as she pulls away, and Elsa stiffens in her arms almost instantly, her heart pounding harder than it has so far. Honey’s eyes flicker to keep watch on the door until she’s confident the voices have faded into the distance and they are alone once more. She then rises to rest on her elbow and nudges Elsa’s chin up to meet her gaze.

“Just us. It's okay, I’ve got you,” she reassures and presses a tender kiss to her cheek. Elsa’s breathing steadies as she relaxes against her, and the trust they’ve managed to build lifts Honey’s face into a warm smile. 

“Now, roll on your back,” she orders, breaking away to sit upright. 

Elsa turns and settles her bare back against the soft pelts. Honey situates herself on top, straddling Elsa’s hips and running her hands along her slim arms until their fingers are woven together. She breathes in the sight of her pale skin glowing against the darkness and lifts Elsa’s hands, unlocking their fingers so her palms are open. Honey presses a flushed cheek into one and grazes against it, keeping her eyes fixed steadily on Elsa as she does. She then pulls it to her lips, sinking a lasting, delicate kiss into her palm before moving to give her other hand the same treatment. Everything Elsa’s ever had to hide, those are her favorite parts; the vivid feelings beating in her chest, the magic coursing through her fingertips, and those shy, wandering eyes exploring the body above her.

“You’re allowed to touch me, you know.” 

Honey’s voice is pure silk as she guides Elsa’s hands down and rubs them against her breasts. Elsa’s breath hitches at the contact and Honey lets go, inviting her to explore on her own. She marvels at her in low hums for a long moment, circling her thumbs over Honey’s nipples until they are stiff and pebbled, then strokes down to her stomach and massages her way up her sides. It’s an impossible feeling, simply running her hands over someone without the fear of hurting them. She never knew other people could be felt so deeply, or considered the pleasure her touch might bring someone else.

She brings her hands to cup her breasts again, and she feels like she could cry when Honey lets out a sharp sigh above her. Suddenly, there are warm fingers on her cheek and Honey is pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. A smile pulls at Elsa’s lips, and she moves her hands to slowly glide across Honey’s back. She drags them down her shoulder blades and along the crease of her spine until they come to rest on her hips. There’s a moment of hesitation, and her heart thrums violently in her ears as she contemplates her next move. Then, finally, she pushes Honey down to experimentally slide against her.

It doesn’t take long for Honey to start moving on her own, but Elsa keeps her hands in place, savoring the fluid rolls of her hips as Honey seeks her own pleasure. She buries her head in the side of Elsa’s neck as she moves, muttering drawn out “Oh's” against her ear in hot breaths. The sensation is enough to make Elsa tighten her grip and push Honey to rock harder and faster, longing to elicit more breathy moans against her skin. 

“Wait, wait, wait—” Honey pants urgently and stills, then shifts herself to sit up. Elsa freezes as she does, and her eyes grow wide with regret.

“I—I’m sorry. I just wanted to feel what you felt.” Her voice is suddenly so small and fragile, and it sends a pang of guilt through Honey’s gut.

“No, no, please don’t be sorry. I very much liked what you did...” Her eyes flicker sheepishly down to her wet heat glistening on Elsa’s skin. “Perhaps _too much.”_

She swallows hard, then looks back up, her face painted with a playful smirk. She cradles Elsa’s head and strokes her thumb gently along her hairline for a moment, then leans down to capture her in a hungry kiss. 

“But I want to take care of you first,” she whispers against her lips, “I’m nowhere near done with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to leave you hanging, but I had to post this before I chickened out (and please excuse any errors I might have missed while proofreading). I do have a plan for this fic and quite a bit written, so I'll update as it as I go (as long as my nerves don't get the best of me). 
> 
> I have No Idea if I'm writing this well, but I hope you enjoyed. Thanks for reading!


	2. More (E)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the wonderful feedback on the first chapter! I really appreciate the kind words. Fingers crossed I did this one justice.
> 
> **This chapter is explicit.**

Elsa is glad she let Honey’s braid down earlier in the night as she tangles her fingers through it and draws Honey further into her mouth. They are flush with each other now, with their breasts rubbing against one another as they roll their bodies in a soulful kiss. Honey supports her weight on one elbow and uses her free hand to grasp at Elsa’s jawline, pulling her close until they are sighing into each other. 

Her thigh has found its place back between Elsa’s legs and pushes into her center, earning muffled grunts against her lips as she moves. It feels so natural as she kisses her way down Elsa’s neck, traces her lips across her collarbone, drags her teeth along her sternum, until her breath is sweeping over one of her breasts like a sultry breeze. She trails along the side of it for a long moment, sucking down every so often, before finally shifting her attention to the top.

_ “Honey!” _

A sharp gasp escapes Elsa, and her head flies up to watch Honey’s slick tongue swirl around her nipple. Honey’s eyes smile up at her with a mischievous glint. She lets her teeth graze over it and moves her free hand to stroke the other. With trembling fingers, Elsa roughens her grip and pulls hard at Honey’s hair. Her breathy moans cut out and her back arches suddenly, bucking her hips off the bed for a fleeting moment.

Honey grins against her skin. The revered fifth spirit, the bridge that lifted the impenetrable mist, the human who tamed the Nokk on the surface of the Dark Sea, and she's bending into her touch like the needle of a compass swings north. Clinging to her like a taut rope pulling her up a mountainside. It’s absolutely enchanting, how a being so stoic and mystical can be so unbelievably _ human. _Being this intimate with Elsa, this open, it makes her feel like magic too; a kind she never knew existed. Then again, having grown up in the mist, she’s learning there are many things she never knew existed in this world.

But none of that matters to her now right now. She is focused on the way their hearts meld together solely on instinct, led by a message she knows is scribed deep in their chests since the dawn of time. Elsa’s voice fades into gravelly hums as she lowers back down. Honey kisses gently across her body to Elsa’s other breast, making a point to spend a long time teasing her way around it. The nails of her free hand bite into Elsa’s side just below her arm, holding her in place and scratching over her as Elsa rocks to chase her contact. 

When she finally brings her lips to her nipple, Elsa’s back lifts again. The surge of wetness on Honey’s thigh is intoxicating, and she suddenly wants nothing more than to drown herself in it. She spends a few minutes lapping her tongue around the peak, then begrudgingly pulls away and untangles the fingers from her hair. Elsa’s disappointed groan is cut off as Honey’s lips crash into hers and a wave of heat slams through both of them.

Elsa loops her arms around Honey’s frame as their tongues waltz, brushing against each other in a steady, synchronized rhythm. She slowly scrapes her hands up and down Honey’s back, feeling the tension in her shoulders as she supports her own weight. Honey trails teasing licks down to Elsa’s neck and delicately nips at her again, still cautious not to leave any marks. Instead, she paints her pale skin with vivid kisses and intentionally works her way down Elsa’s body, making certain that no inch of her goes unappreciated. Honey’s lips blaze down her collarbone and across her chest, sweep below her navel and over her hips until she is finally ready to dive between her legs.

“Mmmm, please,” Elsa mumbles as she watches, hands now tensely gripping the pelts at her sides. It’s barely audible, but it catches Honey’s attention and she pauses, letting the wheels turn behind her eyes. With a sly tilt of her head, she lifts herself to plant a peck on her hip bone. Feeling bold, she trails up again before sinking her mouth just above it.

“What was that?” She simpers before sucking down. Honey doesn’t hold back this time, knowing she’s low enough now to leave her mark wherever she craves.

“Honey, please.” Elsa’s legs part further and she rocks her body, desperately seeking friction as the throbbing at her center builds. _ “Please.” _

Honey releases the skin and places a gentle kiss over the bruise she’s created. Then she plays around, straying higher and further from where she’s most wanted with each plea, keeping her eyes locked on Elsa as she does. She teases her way up until she’s returned to her chest, finding far too much enjoyment in hearing Elsa’s voice grow husky with need, and sated as she writhes beneath her.

“Please..._ what? _” Honey asks, then takes one of her nipples between her teeth while squeezing the other. Elsa’s back flies up from the furs and she lets out a strangled gasp, bracing her hands firmly in Honey’s hair. Then, in one sharp tug, she is shoving Honey back down between her legs with an unexpected vigor.

“Please.” Elsa stares at her though heavy-lidded eyes, chest heaving as she toughens her grip and holds her in place. _“More,”_ she growls.

Honey grins and breaths a laugh against her thigh. This is new to both of them, uncharted territory they had yet to explore until just now. They’re still learning what makes the other tick, and it fuels Honey to see Elsa open up more and more each time they are together. Neither of them are entirely sure what sparked this untapped confidence in both of them, but they find immense satisfaction in their effect on each other. It’s taken a lot of patience and love for Elsa to arrive to this point, for her to feel comfortable actually being with Honey in any capacity. But now, Honey wants nothing more than to show her how naturally the two of them can flow together.

And whatever just happened, she _ definitely _ wants to make that happen again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, I wrote this entire scene and it ended up being unreasonably long. I’m unwilling to compromise on the content, so I split it into two separate chapters. Sorry for leaving you hanging again! The next chapter will be like, double this length so hopefully it’s worth the wait.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading!


	3. A Cleansing Stream (E)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for the kind words on the previous chapter! They are very appreciated. I originally wanted to hold off on posting this until I had a solid amount of the fourth chapter written, but I seem to be in a bit of a writing funk and didn't want to keep anyone waiting. 
> 
> **This chapter is explicit.**

With that new piece of Elsa tucked away in her mind for safe keeping, Honey shifts her focus to what’s in front of her. She spends a long moment peppering Elsa’s inner thigh with hungry kisses, letting her breath hover over her center as she moves to even the contact on her other thigh. Honey thinks about stopping, about retracing her steps and making her beg more, but the musky scent dripping between her legs is far too enticing. She flattens herself on her stomach and slides her arms under Elsa’s thighs, wrapping around her hips to secure her in place. 

Elsa falls back on the furs and plummets into another raspy moan as Honey runs her tongue down her center, dipping into her wetness and pulling it up over her sensitive bud. She delicately licks her clit in slow orbits, easing her into the sensations and relishing in the way Elsa cards through her dark brown hair as she does. She sucks down and drinks her in, delighting in the rush of heat that dampens her chin. Honey can’t help but beam on the inside, knowing Elsa’s lived with a fear cold enough to freeze an entire fjord, yet she can coax out her warmth with enough safety and one sweltering breath against her.

The sweet scent of her arousal is soaked into the coarse hair tickling Honey’s face, and she whimpers as she breathes it in and quickens her pace. Her hands dig into Elsa’s fluttering hips as she swoops down and plunges her tongue into her entrance. She hums, reaching as far as her mouth will allow, and Elsa shakes from the added buzz with her eyes screwed shut. 

After a few blissful minutes, it doesn’t feel like enough. She pulls back hesitantly, locks eyes with Elsa, and begins teasing one finger around her entrance. Elsa looks taken aback when she first realizes what Honey wants, but finds that the feeling quickly dissipates. Every stroke is tantalizing and tongues can only reach so far. And those hands, those steady, wondrous hands, they’ve held every other piece of her with relentless patience and understanding. 

Elsa nods to let her in, because this is Honey, because _ of course. _

Still uncertain, Honey lingers and teases for another moment, but the longing groan her touch earns is the final nudge she needs to ease it inside. Elsa winces as her knuckle reaches its limit. Honey uses her free hand to entwine their fingers, then stills, allowing them time to adjust. It’s another new path for them and the respite is a welcome comfort for both. Honey feels Elsa’s muscles tense around her for a moment, then soften as she sighs and begins to relax. She scans over her, eyes wide as she searches for feedback in her gaze.

“This good?”

Elsa nods with an earnest smile, tenderly combing Honey’s long hair out of her face. “Mmmm...very. Different, but the good kind.”

There’s a budding openness to her words. Raw and certain. And it paints Honey in pure admiration.

“You’ll tell me if it’s too much? If I need to stop?”

“Of course,” she whispers. 

Honey gives her hand a gentle squeeze, then carefully draws her finger out. Elsa’s breath hitches, still adjusting the foreign feeling of something sliding into her. On the inside, she is molten silk, and Honey takes her time mapping out each velvety wall and ridge, feeling for the spots that tug on Elsa’s lungs and avoiding the ones that make her flinch. It’s a dull kind of burn as Honey falls into a rhythm. Once Elsa’s quiet groans assure her she’s comfortable, Honey lowers her head and laves her mouth over her clit once again.

“Mmmm, _ more,” _ Elsa grunts after a while, breathless and gruff, as she lets herself grind down on Honey’s mouth. Wasting no time, Honey carefully slips in a second finger. Elsa lets out a long and heavy moan, delighting in the friction of Honey’s flesh stretching her inner walls juxtaposed with the slick heaven gliding over her clit. 

Honey can feel Elsa unraveling as her body undulates in fluid movements, and adrenaline pulses through her at the memory of Elsa pushing her down. It can’t end yet, not until she figures out how to do that again. Longing to echo that same response, Honey breaks her mouth away and whispers into her.

“Tell me when you’re close.”

She hurries the pace of her fingers and eases back on her clit, swirling her tongue over the swollen bud so light it’s almost agonizing. Honey takes her time, intent on steadily hauling her pleasure to its peak. Elsa’s body winds up tight and with another lurch of her hips, she feels ready to sate the flames bubbling under her skin.

“Honey—_aah_—I’m close, I’m close,” she pants out with her eyes clamped shut. Her back arches higher and higher as she teeters right on the edge of her pleasure. Just as she’s about to let go, Honey’s touch is gone and Elsa groans, low and guttural, as she twitches against nothing. 

“No no no no no,” she mutters desperately, eyes shooting open as she fumbles to reach Honey’s head again. “More, Honey, please. I need—” 

“What do you need?” Honey smiles as she nibbles along her shaky abdomen, her gaze sensual and frustratingly smug. In a fervid movement, Elsa yanks her up to meet her eyeline and presses their foreheads close together. 

_ “You _ ** _._ ** Inside. All over. Please.” Her voice is thick with hunger as she clutches her face and catches her in a hazy stare. A pang of heat shoots through Honey at the sight of her icy blue eyes now dark and full of lust, begging for release.

“And _ what _ do you want me to do?” 

Elsa pulls her into a fevered kiss and uncharacteristically catches Honey’s bottom lip between her teeth, biting down just enough to elicit a low moan. 

_ “Touch me.” _

The words burn on her tongue and scorch Honey’s core, and before either of them have time to think, Honey is being pushed back down between her legs. They both sigh as Elsa reins her in until she is sliding through her wetness again. Honey’s teeth graze against her clit as she pushes her fingers inside. She’s less cautious this time, and Elsa shudders at the increased force as her speed picks back up, aching for more as she rocks into it.

“Yes...yes..._harder,” _ she pleads, breaths rugged as she climbs back to the peak. Honey quickens her tongue and drives her fingers into Elsa’s core. With a few deep thrusts, she curls them up and grazes against a spot that shoots a fiery thrill through Elsa’s gut. She chokes out a blaring sob and Honey stops immediately, guilt prickling at her chest. It’s the loudest she’s ever heard her, so loud it makes her wonder if she was the only one to hear it.

She moves up her body to find Elsa with one hand clamped tightly over her mouth, looking as startled as her at the volume. Her muscles are taut and trembling as Honey soothes her sides, but Honey worries it’s a different kind this time. 

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” 

Elsa eventually relaxes under her touch and slowly uncovers her mouth. “You didn’t. I’m okay—good, actually. Really good.” Her eyes flicker nervously around the hut for a moment. “Do you think anyone heard?”

“I don’t think so. And even if they did, no one knows you’re here. It’s okay, still just us.”

Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she brings her hand up to stroke Honey’s cheek. “Keep going. I’ll be quieter.”

“Are you sure?” 

Elsa swallows hard and grasps her hair again. “Just touch me.” 

The words send a shiver down Honey’s spine. She’s not sure, but it’s possible tonight might be the first time Elsa’s spoken those words, ever. She pulls her into a gentle kiss, taking time to simply hold Elsa before finally making a descent to resume where she left off. 

Honey eases her fingers back in, watching for any winces along the way, and lets her tongue glide over her clit once more. She fastens her free hand around Elsa’s waist and holds her down as her hips begin to roll. After settling back into their rhythm, Honey thrusts deeply and swirls around her with no reserve. She’s done teasing by now, with all her desires fixed on hurling Elsa over the edge.

“Ah—_aah_—keep going.” Elsa lets out a hushed groan. _ “Faster.” _

Honey quickens her speed and rouses her further and further off of the pelts with each thrust. One hand flies from Honey’s hair to grasp the hand riveting her to the spot. Elsa’s breathing falls into a chorus of needy huffs as she grinds down on Honey with abandon. Ignoring the ache in her wrist, Honey works every part of her until she feels Elsa clench into a fine crescendo. 

Their eyes lock for a striking moment until Elsa’s face scrunches and her breaths cut out. Honey moans into her center as her thighs clamp down and inner walls flutter around her fingers. Throwing her head back, Elsa twitches wildly as pleasure rattles through every muscle, toes curled and one hand still clutched tightly in Honey’s hair. Her voice cracks into a low, rugged moan as heat rips through her core, rendering her blissfully powerless as she comes.

The sights and sounds alone are almost enough to take Honey with her, but she focuses on riding it out with Elsa, anchoring her and easing her down with every searing spasm that shakes through. She can feel nails digging into her hand as Elsa floats down from her high. With her eyes screwed shut, she lets out one final gasp and jolt before melting into the furs like a puddle. 

After slipping her fingers out, Honey runs her tongue up her center one more time before pulling away, and Elsa hisses at the sensation as she does. Honey rests between her for a few minutes, panting against her thigh, wiping the wetness from her face, and picking a stray hair from her mouth.

Elsa tilts her head, letting her eyes fall open, and her chest swells at the sight of Honey relaxed so comfortably against her. With one hand still threaded in her hair, she absentmindedly strokes through it and marvels at her. It’s a remarkable thing, she thinks, to be so vulnerable and safe all at once, to hold something new and strange yet so familiar. It’s an existence she never thought would be in her reach, yet here she is, letting Honey’s hair course through her fingers like a cleansing stream. 

Honey catches her gaze and offers a lazy, lopsided smile, then lifts herself to climb up Elsa’s body. Buzzing with confidence, she straddles Elsa, letting herself grind down once as she leans in. Their faces are close, and Honey runs her dampened fingers along Elsa’s lips until they part enough to allow her inside. Elsa laps her tongue around them slowly, instinctively licking and sucking her own heat off Honey’s fingers until she pulls them out with a pop.

“You’re sweet.” Honey grins, humming as she dips them into her own mouth to savor one last taste before wiping her hand dry. She then cradles either side of Elsa’s head and holds her in a tender, heavy-lidded gaze. 

“And so, _ so _ beautiful,” she croons before capturing her lips. 

Elsa sighs into her. She can taste herself again, and for one glorious moment, she can’t tell where she ends and Honey begins. It’s like coming home, only better, because she finally gets to be a home to someone else too.

Her hand wanders down the body above her, drawn toward the wetness she knows is waiting between Honey’s legs. Elsa opens her eyes and admires Honey’s own beauty as they kiss, bathing in her radiance and wanting to reflect it back so Honey can see it too. But just as she reaches her waist, Honey’s lips are gone and Elsa’s hand is being reeled back up.

“Tonight was for you,” she says, planting a quick peck on Elsa’s forehead before rolling to lie next to her.

“But—“ 

“You’ll have all day tomorrow to return the favor, if you’d like.” She settles onto her side and chuckles at the puzzled expression that greets her.

“Huh? But you—”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Honey interrupts, shaking her head with an eager grin. “Ryder’s going in my place to harvest bark tomorrow, since I helped him with some fighting techniques a while back. I actually have the entire day free. I told him I just want some uninterrupted rest, and because he’s such a wonderful brother, he’s even staying somewhere else tonight and tomorrow. So...I’ve got some food stashed away for us and I made _ sure _ I picked some cloudberries for you.”

“You did?” Elsa’s eyes light up, extremely moved by the gesture.

“Mhmm. I know how much you love them.” She holds her in a tender gaze as she pulls her close and ghosts along Elsa’s side. “You can stay the night and we don’t have to leave at all tomorrow, if you don’t want to. And then you can sneak out once everyone’s asleep like usual.”

“You didn’t have to go through all that trouble.” She is still touched, but Honey hears a certain guilt glaze over her voice, and she knows it comes from the same place all her other guilt does. Elsa doesn’t want to be a burden, and she _ isn’t _ a burden, but early memories lure her into that feeling over and over, no matter how many times Honey tries to convince her otherwise. 

But she’ll be damned if that keeps her from trying anyway.

“Consider it an early anniversary gift,” she smiles, gently brushing strands of hair out of her face, “And spending time with you is _ not _ trouble, Elsa, it’s a privilege.”

Elsa awkwardly chews on her lips and lifts her face into a shy smile. Not knowing what to say, she pulls Honey in to thank her with a heartfelt kiss. Their heads remain glued together when they part and they lie in a jumble of tangled limbs, lost in each others gazes. Elsa strokes along Honey’s shoulder, but feels a faint shiver shake through her as she does. There are good shivers and bad shivers, and she’s certain these are the latter. Her heart sinks when she looks down to find Honey’s warm, copper skin now littered with goosebumps. It may be the middle of the summer, but cold accompanies nightfall being so far north. And Elsa knows laying next to someone like her definitely does not help.

“You’re cold.” She frowns, tearing herself away. “I’m making you cold. Again.”

“It’s not a big deal, really,” Honey assures, but the quivering breath that slips out after says otherwise.

“Yes, it is,” Elsa insists and reaches to pull two large pelts up over her. She tucks them around Honey, making sure all of her is covered. “Better?” 

Honey sighs. It _ is _ warmer, but it’s also emptier. 

“A little, but I’d be much happier if you were under here with me.” She smirks and ticks one brow up, lifting her arm to make an opening and coax her under. Trying to deny her is fruitless. Elsa knows she couldn’t fight the desire to snuggle up next to her it even if she wanted to, so she slides in and buries her face in the crook of Honey’s neck. With a contented sigh, Honey wraps both of them under the covers. Pulling her close, she presses a soft kiss to Elsa’s temple and rests her chin on her head.

“Ah, there...” She smiles. “Perfect room temperature bliss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Fingers crossed I can pull myself out of this funk and have the next chapter up soon.


	4. Breathe With Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up, pals. The angst is here.
> 
> **Content warning for past trauma. Please tread lightly if you need to!**

“Anna...no... _ no _ ...please…” Elsa mumbles weakly against Honey’s chest, breaths sharp and hollow as she clutches her tightly. Honey’s eyes shoot open and she blinks herself awake, steadying her lungs as her thoughts wade into the present. 

Beyond Elsa’s anguished whispers, she hears the chirr of the morning air; the cadence of the quails, reindeer hooves crunching in the dirt, and exchanges of muffled pleasantries far off in the distance. The hut is still enveloped in darkness, save for some slivers of sunlight trickling in through the door frame and dripping over them. It’s all the colors of a familiar July morning, but they are tinged by the sleeping body grieving next to her and the somber snow flurries suspended midair around them.

“Elsa, hey, shhh, you’re okay,” she soothes instinctively as Elsa trembles in her arms. 

This is far from the first nightmare she’s held her through. Honey knows why she’s clinging to her, and sorrow wrenches in her chest at the mere thought of what Elsa is seeing. She’s had these dreams every now and then since she was young, apparently, but they seem to have grown more frequent since moving away from her sister. 

And her younger sister is precisely who Elsa thinks she’s holding right now.

By this point, Honey knows that moving and talking helps rouse her from the illusion, which Elsa has made very clear she doesn’t want to spend any longer reliving than she already has. But part of Honey feels wrong for doing it. She knows you’re not supposed to wake someone from a bad dream, and she’ll forever hear her father’s stoic words ringing through her ears.

_ “Are you sure we shouldn’t...?” _ Honey would ask whenever Ryder had a nightmare growing up. It was a regular occurrence, and her young patience would wear thin with each restless night.  _ “He’d probably stop crying if he were awake...maybe.” _

_ “I’m certain, Honeymaren,”  _ he’d say in that enduringly calm voice. _ “It will pass, as all things do.” _ And every time, without fail, it would. Ryder would eventually wake up, shaky and startled, and her father would soothe him back to sleep in his arms.

It’s a reliable sentiment in most cases, but Ryder wasn’t capable of invoking a snowstorm in the middle of summer...

...which Elsa has inadvertently done before. 

And may well be on her way to repeating right now, for all Honey knows.

So far the snow seems to be contained to the interior, and that is exactly the way Honey intends to keep it. There would be no greater tell of Elsa’s presence than flurries rippling out from her hut. She’s put far too much effort and worry into ensuring they remain undiscovered, and there’s no way she’s going to let it happen  _ today _ of all days.

Thankfully, they’ve developed a routine that seems to work well enough. Delicately, Honey glides one hand down Elsa’s back while her other grasps the taut arm draped over her body. She braces herself with a deep breath, begins kneading her back, and speaks.

“Anna’s okay,” she whispers, “You’re okay.”

It takes a few tries before Elsa finally jolts awake, gasping and curling into Honey, gripping her like the only piece of driftwood bobbing in a violent sea. Honey holds her wordlessly for a few minutes, arms firm and unwavering around Elsa as she gives her mind and body time to sync up. When Honey feels beads of frigid tears drizzle onto her chest, she tightens her grasp and lightly rubs the curve of Elsa’s back.

_ “Anna…” _

“Anna’s safe,” Honey assures. “She’s in Arendelle with Kristoff and you’re in the forest with me.” Tilting her head forward, she brushes disheveled bunches of hair from Elsa’s face and tucks them behind her ear. “You were dreaming, but I’ve got you now, okay?”

Elsa rattles out a heavy sigh and nods against her. Around them, the snow drifts down slow as feathers and dissolves into the ground. Honey lets out a stiff breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in. It’s a relief to see that storm melt away, but there’s a different kind of storm still quivering in her grasp.

“Come here,” she says softly, nudging her chin up. Elsa wiggles her way off her chest and lets Honey guide her, both of them rolling on their sides to face each other. The pelts have worked their way down overnight, so Honey pulls them back up. Putting aside the residual cold lingering in the air and chilling her skin, she blankets the rest of Elsa in her arms and strokes gentle circles along the back of her neck. “What are you feeling?”

“Everything...” Elsa mumbles, barely audible as she burrows into Honey’s shoulder. “It happened today.”

Honey knows this. In fact, it’s part of the reason she bargained with Ryder to cover for her on this day specifically. Sure, being free on their actual anniversary would be nice, especially their first one, but if a solemn anniversary falls just before it, of course she’s going to choose to be with Elsa then. No question.

“What do you need?” She can hear the answer before it even forms on Elsa’s tongue. She’s already doing it, but she asks anyway. Honey always makes sure to ask.

“Hold me,” Elsa whimpers in a frail voice that seeps into Honey’s skin.

Comforting her after these nightmares is like trying to weave through a dense fog. It never feels like enough to hug her and tell her the dreams aren’t real like her father used to do with Ryder. These aren’t just dreams to Elsa, they’re memories; raw and vivid events that were once very,  _ very _ real. Salty tears can be wiped away and glazed over with sweet kisses, but she knows how loudly feelings can echo through the bones. Honey stumbles into the helplessness of it all, desperate to hold the intangible and mold it into something new.

But if the ebbs and flows of her own life have taught her anything, it’s that there’s one thing in particular she is always capable of doing.

“Breathe with me?” she asks, using one hand to cradle Elsa’s cheek as she shifts so their foreheads meet. Elsa’s sunken eyes latch to hers and flutter into a nod. Her tears are cool and damp under Honey’s thumb as she brushes them away and draws in a deep breath. Elsa’s chest fills to the brim as she mirrors Honey, then wrings out her grief in a long exhale.

They repeat this in a steady rhythm, broken only by the occasional aftershock slipping from Elsa’s lungs. And they do this for as long as it takes, until her thoughts eventually fade to a lull and she relaxes in the solace of Honey’s arms. 

“Okay if I get up?” Honey asks, stroking Elsa’s lightly freckled cheek as she nods in response. Elsa watches her slide out and pick some clean clothes hanging on the wall.

“Here,” she says, an open hand stretched out as she returns with a fresh pair of brown pants and a thin, earthy green sweater. The hut swirls for a moment as Elsa let’s Honey guide her up, and she supports herself on her shoulders, waiting for her head to stop spinning. Slowly, Honey works with her to slip on the shirt and helps her step into the pants. Part of her feels silly because Elsa can dress herself with a simple wave of her hand, but Honey knows how much comfort she finds in wearing her clothes every now and then. And honestly, seeing Elsa in her clothes just makes her heart smile a little wider at the end of the day.

“Be right back,” she whispers, leading Elsa down on the pelts. She wanders around the hut and gathers the rest of the strewn articles on the ground, eventually throwing on her reindeer hide tunic and pants from the previous day. Circling the space once more, she grabs a raspberry colored scarf adorned with crystallized patterns hanging on a support beam by the door. It once belonged to Elsa’s mother, and it carries a sense of calm and comfort during moments like these.

Then, she kneels to rummage through a small wooden box, carefully pulling out a brown leather bracelet with sage colored symbols woven into it. Fastening it around her wrist, she makes her way back to Elsa and swaddles the scarf around her shoulders as she sits down. Elsa settles between her legs and leans back into her. With one arm wrapping her tightly, Honey squeezes her hand and combs gently through her hair with the other. 

“Better?” she asks, pressing a soft kiss atop her head.

Elsa breathes out and melts into her. And Honey just...holds her. Because she knows the hours of Elsa’s life that can only be measured in flinches. Because she remembers the moment they each handed over the most jagged edges of their hearts and let the others’ touch smooth them over like stones in a riverbed. Honey holds her because she finally knows what it’s like to be held for all that she is and was and could be.

And after knowing that, how could she not?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for the kind words so far! I'm having an absolute blast writing this fic and I'm really excited about all the moments to come. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed <3
> 
> I have a good portion of the next chapter written, so an update will hopefully come soon!


	5. The Fire is Fresh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _*cracks knuckles*_  
Hooo buddy, do they have some baggage to unpack.
> 
> Angst ahead. Couldn't think of any warnings but please let me know if there's one I should add!

_ “I’m so sorry,” Honeymaren says awkwardly, jerking her hand away from Elsa’s. “I—I misunderstood.” _

_ “No,” Elsa blurts out...and then she hears what she just said. What good are ice powers if she’s going to be so unbelievably _ bad _ at playing it cool? Gnawing on her lip, she hates herself for a second, but knows she has to finish the thought now. _

_ “...you didn’t.” _

_ “I didn’t?” _

_ There’s so much confusion written on her face, it almost hurts to look at. Elsa heaves a heavy sigh into the crisp night air as something churns in her gut. How long has she lived up here? Seven or eight months? And there’s still so much Maren doesn’t know. _

_ Honeymaren. The closest friend she’s ever had, aside from Anna. And she’s still keeping her at arm’s length... _

_ ...because that’s the safest place to be. _

_ “Touch is just...complicated for me,” she confesses. _

_ Maren blinks at her. “I’m...not sure I understand.” _

_ Of course she doesn’t. She won’t. If there’s one thing Elsa’s certain she’s not meant to be, it’s understood. Liked, sure. Loved, maybe to some. But understood? She’s not even fully there herself. Not really. _

_ “It’s a _ long _ story.” _

_ “Well...the fire is fresh,” Maren says casually, leaning back on her arms and swinging her legs out from under her—settling in for the long haul. _

_ Elsa slouches, losing herself in the crackling flames. “If I tell you...there’s a good chance may not see me the same way...” _

_ Maren’s eyes narrow. “How can I see you at all if I don’t understand you?” _

_ Somehow, the words manage to shatter Elsa and stitch her together all at once. Who actually _ talks _ like that? _

_ Honeymaren does. And she’s far too wise for her own good. _

_ Part of Elsa wants to summon the Nokk and ride back to Ahtohallan right then and there, but she finds herself cemented in the sincerity of Maren’s gaze. Her chestnut eyes flicker in the firelight, accented by the soft glow of the moon, and it’s almost frustrating how patient they feel as she watches Elsa. But she has to admit, those eyes are sweet. Big and soft and so undeniably sweet. _

_ “Okay,” she surrenders. _

_ Her tone is soaked with dread and Maren hears it. _

_ "You don’t have to talk about it,” she assures, “but if you’d like to, I’m listening.” _

_ With a voice that open and gentle, Maren could ask her to walk into fire and she’d probably do it in a sprint. But she’s not asking her to do that. She’s not asking her to do anything, actually. She’s inviting her in. _

_ So, Elsa takes a breath of courage and steps forward. _

_ Maren welcomes her as she listens intently, focused on absorbing every detail. She heard the abridged version of this story from Olaf the night she met Elsa, but the lively snowman’s adaptation left some considerable gaps unexplained. In the time Elsa’s lived up here, Maren hasn’t quite been able to piece everything together. _

_ Until now, that is. _

_ The more she learns, the more everything about Elsa makes sense—like her protectiveness of her sister after accidentally hurting her with magic, which almost cost Anna her life twice over. She was healed by the mountain trolls after the first incident, but they had to erase all her memories of Elsa’s magic in order to do so. _

_ It quickly becomes clear to Maren why Elsa prefers to live alone on an ancient glacier. She’s never understood it before, why Elsa spends most of her days in the forest with the Northuldra, then retreats to Ahtohallan at night—but considering her father’s response to the incident was to isolate her from Anna and Arendelle as she grew up, she can’t really blame her. _

_ With a quick glance down, Maren recognizes the way Elsa tugs nervously at her fingers as she speaks. It’s something she’s always done, but now she knows the habit was born from being gifted gloves to help conceal her magic. Her hands may be bare and unrestricted now, but part of Elsa is still trying to peel those guarded layers away. _

_ Realizing this, Maren sits up and turns to face her completely. To her relief, Elsa’s hands still so she can do the same. Slowly, she feels the wall Elsa’s built around herself become a little less frosted and melt into something more transparent. _

_ And the lower Maren’s heart sinks upon seeing it all. _

_ It absolutely shatters her to learn that Elsa was too afraid to hug her parents before they set off on their voyage, unaware that the chance would never come again. How painful it must have been to have an entire kingdom turn to her in a time of paralyzing grief, and to have to bury such a vital piece of herself in the process. She couldn’t even imagine... _

_ “I was a mess,” Elsa explains. “On the day of my coronation, I could barely hold the orb and sceptre without freezing them. Then, during the reception, Anna and I got into a fight and...she tore one of my gloves off. All of the sudden, people knew. Anna. Arendelle. Dignitaries from other kingdoms. Everyone.” _

_ “That’s a good thing, right?” Maren interjects. “That people finally knew and you didn’t have to hide?” _

_ “Sort of. It was a huge relief, certainly. Although, it should’ve been me who decided how people found out and when. But because I had no say, they were yelling about a curse, cringing away, calling me a monster...” Elsa swallows the lump in her throat. “It was all too much.” _

_ Maren can hear her tone growing narrow and feeble with each word. Elsa knots her arms together and she folds into herself, eyes dipping to the ground as her jaw clenches. She remains quite composed considering how unsettling the words leaving her mouth are, but Maren figures that probably stems from her experiences serving as queen...and all of her other experiences, really._

_ They’re reaching the parts of the story she remembers Olaf reenacting most vividly: when Elsa fled to the North Mountain and Anna followed her there. After learning that she accidentally brought on a harsh winter, she lost control of her magic and hurt Anna again, only hitting her in the heart this time and causing her to slowly freeze. _

_ Fury boils beneath her own skin as she learns about the “monster of a man” (as Elsa so affectionately puts it) who imprisoned Elsa upon finding her. He’d been playing Anna like a puppet, weaponizing her hunger for love to claim his place on the throne. He eventually locked her in a room and left her to freeze, leading Elsa to believe she was already dead and that she was responsible. _

_ That’s when Maren’s soul completely plummets into the earth. It feels almost like she’s looking in a mirror as Elsa describes how her world stopped when she thought her sister was gone. Maren knew what happened to Anna, but she never could’ve fathomed the complexity of it all, and how Elsa was manipulated and almost killed in the process. _

_ Her nails bite into her palm. _

That monster can thank his lucky stars she was locked in the mist back then.

_ Thankfully, Anna wasn’t. She managed to escape and use her final moments to shield Elsa from the blade of his sword before freezing in front of her. That last act of love is what thawed her heart and saved them both. And it’s how Elsa learned to harness love instead of fear to control her powers. _

_ Elsa’s voice fades out as she reaches the end. Her shoulders are stiff as marble as she mentally traces patterns in the dirt, trying to numb herself to the response she knows is brewing. _

_ Maren stares at her for a long moment, studying her with a poignant glint. _

_ “Wow,” she whispers before she can stop herself. _

_ And...there it is. _

_ “Yeah, there’s a lot I’m not proud of,” Elsa huffs anxiously, wringing her hands again. She’s too fixated on the ground to notice the slight smirk that starts to pull on Maren’s lips. _

_ “Actually...I know how that feels. Sort of. It’s different, obviously. But _—”

_ “You do?” Elsa’s head snaps up, eyes wide and glimmering in shock. _

_ “Mhmm.” She nods distantly. _

_ There’s a shift in Maren’s usual boldness as she skews her head and lets her gaze wander to the trees behind them. The white bark of the birches glow in the night as she wordlessly sifts through the memories plaguing her own mind. _

_ “It’s a bit of a long story, too,” she says blankly. “And I’ve never told anyone before...” _

_ When Maren turns back, there’s an unsettling emptiness in her expression. Something about her feels so small, Elsa finds it hard to believe this is the same person who pounced down from a tree with a staff pointed at her the night they met. The gravity of it wracks through her chest at first, but she finds herself scooting closer as it pulls her in. _

_ “Well, I’m here...if you want to...” she says softly, unfolding her hands and letting them rest in her own lap. “The fire is still fresh.” _

_ Maren flashes a smile as a thin laugh slips under her breath. How long has she lived believing this shame was entirely her own? All those years spent convinced no one else had seen anything like it, and now she’s here, inches away from someone who knows this breed of guilt as intimately as she does, if not more. _

_ Tilting her head, Maren looks up at Elsa and swallows hard, resolving to unearth this long-obscured splinter of her past. _

_ Reluctantly, perhaps, but she does it all the same. _

_ “When we were young,” she murmurs, “Ryder was...sensitive. And I was the exact opposite. He cried constantly and kept us up most nights sobbing from nightmares. He was afraid to do pretty much anything that didn’t involve the reindeer. I used to hide behind trees while we were harvesting because I knew he was an easy scare. I just... _ always _ went out of my way to give him a hard time.” _

_ With a shake of her head, she plasters her eyes shut and chews on her lip. A sigh falling somewhere between frustration and regret slips out. _

_ “One day, I was in this really tall tree, and I was getting on him for being afraid of heights. I don’t know what it was about that time in particular, but something inside him snapped. He got fed up and started to climb, way higher than me and way higher than he was comfortable with...” _

_ Her eyes open, faraway and dismal as tears spill down her cheeks. The sight is enough to bar the air from Elsa’s lungs. _

_ “And then...he slipped,” Maren continues. “He wasn’t good at landing properly yet. And with the height he was at, I don’t even know if he could’ve… For a minute, he was just falling, a—and I thought…” _

_ A cold breath shudders through her body and her voice falters. Elsa looks on helplessly, unsure of what to do as Maren quietly unravels. It’s heartbreaking to see her so vulnerable, but she’s also rather amazed as she watches her. She’s crying, sure, but even so, there’s a vigor somewhere inside her that staggers on. _

_ “He caught himself on a branch somehow and climbed down on his own,” Maren explains. “Walked away with just a few scratches and bruises, thank the spirits. But it took _ that _ for me to realize how much I was pushing him and how badly he was hurting because of it. Not long after, we lost our father...and our mother was already gone...so it was just the two of us…” _

_ Maren trails off for a moment, staring distantly as she grips her own hand and sways her thumb over the top of her wrist like a pendulum—back and forth and back and forth and back and forth._

_ “I...wasn’t myself for a long time...but Ryder stepped up and helped me find my way back. He became my rock, no hesitation. Never questioned my feelings or made me feel bad for feeling them. He just...understood. And I realized that everything I’d hurt him for was actually what made him strong enough to hold me up. _

_ “Ryder feels the world differently and he connects with everyone and everything. It’s what makes him so good with the reindeer and just...a genuinely good person. So, I spent a lot of time feeling guilty. And, honestly, part of me has been trying to make it up to him ever since. He’s my little brother and I’m supposed to protect him but...I couldn’t even protect him from me.” _

_ Maren punctuates her story with a sharp sniffle, wiping her eyes dry on her sleeve. _

_ Elsa releases an apologetic sigh as the words sink in. She scours her mind for something to soothe the ache she knows is seared deep inside Maren, but if it existed, she would’ve used it up years ago. She’s never been able to string together the right words to comfort herself, let alone someone else. For so long, all Elsa’s known is how to numb the really painful stuff, despite the failed results each time. _

_ Fighting her instincts, she resolves to do the only other thing she can, which is to meet her friend where she’s at. _

_ “I’m glad you told me,” she says softly. She pauses for a moment, then continues. “I think he forgave you a long time ago, Maren.” _

_ “He did, because he’s Ryder and that’s just who he is.” Maren says, grinning sadly at the ground. Eventually, she looks up and leans in. “I just...want you to know you’re not alone. I wasn’t a good sister growing up and I’m not proud of that either.” _

_ “Part of me is still convinced that being queen was easier than being a big sister,” Elsa muses awkwardly. It’s sort of a joke, but also sort of not. She’s not entirely sure where she was going with it, but Maren’s laughter tells her that it hits the right spot. _

_ “I don’t know how you managed to be both at once,” she chuckles. _

_ “Well, I started out by endangering my kingdom and almost killing my sister, so...” _

_ “But after that you made a difference, surely.” _

_ “I did what I could.” Elsa offers a humble shrug as her eyes stray to the ground again. And that’s when Maren realizes something isn’t right. Her own body feels overwhelmed with relief. It buzzes through her as though she’s had one too many sips of wine. But for some reason, there’s a pressure still weighing on Elsa, like another invisible glove she’s yet to remove. _

_ “There’s something else.” _

_ Elsa’s head snaps up at the claim. “What?” _

_ “There’s another reason you don’t want me touching you,” Maren insists. _

_ “What makes you say that?” Elsa tries to mask the defensiveness in her voice, but she can chuck playing it cool right out the metaphorical window at this point. _

_ “You’ve held hands with others here, with me even...but it was a different kind.” Maren’s gaze wanders around the village until she lands back on Elsa, inspecting her seriously. “People are supposed to feel lighter after they share a secret, but something in your eyes feels just as heavy.” _

_ Elsa gapes at her, feeling like all the wind has been knocked through her ribs. _

_ Stupid, perceptive Maren and her sobering wisdom. Ugh. _

_ It shouldn’t surprise her by now, but Elsa’s thoughts spiral anyway and she finds herself fumbling for a response. Just as she’s about to open her mouth, indistinct chatter from people strolling past cut her off. Her jaw clamps shut at the presence and every muscle in her body freezes. It’s too open out here. The night is so big and quiet—which at any other time would be comforting—but in this moment it makes her feel impossibly small. _

_ “Can we go somewhere else?” Elsa whispers, nervously twisting her hands again. “A place where it’s just us...?” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you might have gathered, this chapter is a flashback. It probably would’ve made more sense to write this fic chronologically, but we’re in too deep at this point lol. There will be flashbacks every few chapters or so that show how these two got to where they are as the current story unfolds.
> 
> And of course, thank you so much to anyone sticking with me and for all the kind words so far! Grant me the strength to finish this fic because I _so_ desperately want to share all the soft moments floating around in my brain. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3


	6. You Know What You Need to Say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t let the angst at the beginning fool you...this is the most tooth rotting fluff I’ve ever written in my life.  
You should probably make sure your insurance covers dental before proceeding.

Still wilted in Honey’s arms, Elsa tries to focus on her breathing as guilt whips through her skull like a violent wind. The residual stress from her dream has drifted away in the shelter of Honey’s embrace, but the rest of her thoughts may as well be bags stuffed to the brim with hefty stones. Some people just have a knack for falling helpless at the most inconvenient times and Elsa is _ certain _she’s one of them. Today was supposed to be warm and cozy and pleasant, but it’s not that easy when she’s involved. It never is.

“I’m sorry...” she mumbles, slumping the back of her head against Honey’s shoulder.

A sigh sweeps through her hair as Honey strokes light lines up and down her jaw. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Elsa.”

“But you put so much thought into everything and I ruined it with..._this...” _She gestures vaguely to herself and lets out a defeated huff. 

The words hang stale in the air and Honey affords them no time to register. “You and I both know haven’t ruined anything,” she reassures, her tone gentle but firm.

She’s been trying to break Elsa’s constant flow of apologies ever since she moved up north. When she first mentioned they should work on it, Elsa chuckled in jest, wished her luck, and told her that Anna had been trying for years. More sorries pass through Elsa’s lips than air. It’s a simple fact of her existence; as much a part of her as bone or blood or magic. She’s long since accepted this truth, but Honey refuses to back down in her pursuit.

“You know what you need to say.”

Although Elsa never got to actually meet Honey’s father, she _ swears _ she can hear him echo in her voice sometimes. Honey never misses her chance to insist that Elsa should stop speaking her doubts into existence. _ Throwing around needless apologies will paint the real ones pale, _ she says. And she’s right, of course, as she usually is in these matters. It’s so _ frustrating _when she’s right.

Elsa sighs. She’s stopped trying to make her response sound convincing at this point. It’s like an apology for her apology, without the actual apology. They both know it’s not how she truly feels, but Elsa knows Honey will keep making her say it until she believes it. Luckily, Honey just happens to be the kind of person who makes her want to.

“I have nothing to be sorry for,” Elsa whispers.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Honey smiles and begins gently swaying their bodies from side to side. “I know you’d do the same for me—and you _ have _. Besides, you know I’ll take any chance I get to hold you.” Soft giggles fill the hut as she tightens her grasp and sprinkles Elsa’s cheek with kisses. The tickle of it makes her face scrunch in a charming way that Honey positively adores. The higher Elsa’s nose bunches up, the more she kisses her, and the further Elsa nuzzles into Honey. 

They could do this all day. 

They _ can _do this all day.

But as much as it tugs on her heart to stop, Honey has a few important matters to attend to first. Though she doesn’t want to, she presses one last kiss to her cheek before pulling away and giving Elsa’s shoulder a loving squeeze. “Why don’t we try to eat? I’ve got something I _ know _will make you feel better.”

After leaning forward so she can slip out, Elsa watches humbly as Honey sets about building a small fire. She could never grow tired of watching how fluidly Honey moves from one moment to the next. It’s almost like watching a leaf caught in a swaying breeze; she may not know exactly where she’ll land, but she’s perfectly content to let it carry her wherever she needs to be. And Honey never fails to make herself at home when she arrives. Elsa’s always found it remarkable to witness. It almost makes her capable of doing the same.

Even the most mundane tasks seem captivating when Honey does them. Elsa’s lost count of how many hours she’s spent transfixed as Honey expertly weaves fish traps, wedges leda clay, peels away bark, or carves into bone—just to name a few. She guesses it’s akin to the way people must feel when they see her use magic, but part of her finds Honey’s skills more impressive than anything she could ever do with her hands. 

That’s not to say that Elsa hasn’t invested a great deal of time and energy into honing her craft, but sometimes it feels a bit too extravagant and draws in more attention than she feels deserving of. After abdicating the throne, her powers and protecting the forest are her only true responsibilities, whereas Honey glides seamlessly from one role to the next—each one vastly different from the last—and somehow manages to greet every one of them with ease. She’s never met with a chorus of applause, but she never expects to be. In Elsa’s mind, that’s the mark of a genuinely good soul.

“It feels like a tea kind of morning, don’t you think?” Honey asks, pouring water into a stone kettle before hanging it over the fire. “I have mint or birch,” she adds, wiggling two leather pouches in Elsa’s direction.

“It’s up to you."

Honey squints at the pouches and presses her mouth into a line. “Hmmm...let’s do mint. Something fresh sounds nice.”

On the inside, Elsa had secretly hoped she’d pick mint. Sugar with a _ touch _of milk and black tea is her favorite kind, but she knows that’s not on the menu here. Realistically, her very first choice would be hot chocolate, but that luxury is sadly limited to Arendelle now. It was one of the more tragic sacrifices of her move, but getting to spend time with Anna over steaming mugs of their favorite drink does make her visits to the kingdom feel all the more special.

And it’s worth it in the end. She wouldn’t trade cozy mornings like these for all the hot chocolate in the world.

“Okay, we’re just about ready,” Honey declares, brushing her hands together before wandering to the far end of the hut. Along the wall, Elsa notices a lump of beige cloth on the ground as she approaches it. Honey crouches down and peels it away to reveal a basket stuffed tightly with food. 

So. Much. _ Food. _

“Where’s your basket...?” Elsa shoots her a wry smirk as she scoots toward the fire.

“Oh, this is all for me, actually,” Honey deadpans. “I assumed you’d live off the tea.” A smile cracks through her facade when she hears Elsa chuckle. “Don’t worry, Ryder will be more than happy to eat whatever we don’t finish. It might even earn me some good sister points.” She settles on the ground and situates the basket between them.

Using a stick, she leans over to scrape coals away from the fire and drapes nearby moss she’s gathered over them, then turns to rummage through the basket. Elsa watches as she carefully removes speckled quail eggs and places them on the heated moss. When Honey reaches for more, Elsa begins to take note of the other contents. As promised, there is a respectably sized bowl full of vibrant, orange, delectable cloudberries nestled between smaller bowls of blueberries and raspberries. Next to them, she can see two pouches that she’s come to learn are likely filled with dried reindeer meat and salmon jerky. Everything sits atop another cloth wrapped around pieces of circular flatbread. 

But as Honey removes the last of the eggs, Elsa finally catches sight of what’s tucked behind them.

“What is that...?” She tilts her head, sounding worried as she eyes what appears to be two bundles of leaves wrapped in stems, adorned with purple and white wildflowers. Once she notices the matching bouquet behind them, everything inside of her frowns.

“So nosy.” Honey tuts jokingly as she covers the eggs with another slab of moss to cook. “I told you today was an anniversary gift.” She beams as she turns back. “These are the rest.”

“I—I don’t have yours with me.” Elsa hunches awkwardly as she stares at the gifts, her face crumpled almost as if she’s eaten something sour. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you’d—“

“Elsa, _ it’s okay,” _Honey giggles, rubbing reassuring circles on her knee. “I just wanted to give these to you while you were here. I didn’t expect anything.”

“We can’t wait until I have yours...?”

“We could, but I know for a _ fact _you’re going to want this one right now,” she sings, arching her brow as she scoops up one of the bundles and the bouquet. “And, honestly, I don’t want to wait any longer to give you the other.”

After sliding closer, she jiggles the gifts with an eager grin, working her own kind of magic to coax Elsa into taking them. Swallowing her guilt, Elsa reluctantly reaches out to accept them, then leans down to breathe in the sweet scent wafting from the small bouquet.

_ “Mmmm,” _she hums with a tender smile. “You remembered that I like bluebells.”

Honey merely shrugs in response, but the thoughtful gleam in her eyes whispers that she could never forget.

“They’re lovely, Honey. Thank you,” Elsa says softly, her voice brittled by the kindness of the gesture. She leans in to underline her gratitude with a kiss before gingerly setting the bouquet aside and shifting her attention to the first gift. 

Elsa takes her time inspecting the bundle, wanting to consume every element and discern the materials Honey chose. The flowers create a pleasantly cool palette against the green maple leaves encasing the gift. Right away, her eyes soften as she spots another beloved bluebell. There are two other flowers tucked along with it under the stem tying everything together. One is a charming little cornflower that makes her heart dance. The other is an iris that sends a shiver through her body without ever even touching her. Its petals are an icy white with a faint indigo hue flowing from the center. It reminds her of the light that reaches through the depths of Ahtohallan. If the glacier could be a flower, it would be this flower. If _ she _could be a flower, she would be this flower.

“This one looks like me,” she muses, sliding it out and gently twirling it between her fingers.

“That’s why I chose it.” Honey shines a warm smile, feeling quite pleased that the flower said everything she’d hoped it would.

Once again, Elsa feels flooded by the thought Honey has managed to weave through every detail. There’s a gravity to her compassion that pulls her in and leaves her with no choice but to lean over and thank Honey with another, much longer kiss. 

After they part, Elsa runs her hand over the gift and marvels aloud at the decorations. “Everything is so beautiful, I almost don’t want to open it.”

“Oh, you definitely want to open it,” Honey assures, beaming with confidence.

Elsa shyly catches her lips between her teeth, trying to hide the childlike excitement tugging at her face. Sure, she’s twenty-six years old, but there’s a present in her hands and it’s for _ her. _Moving slowly to keep the wrapping intact, she delicately unties the stem, sets the flowers aside with the rest, and unravels the leaves. Honey delights in the thrilled gasp that buzzes through the air once Elsa realizes what she’s holding.

_ “Chocolate!!!” _

Sure enough, Honey was right. Again. Elsa _ definitely _wanted to open this one now. She flashes a toothy grin in Honey’s direction as she opens the box to glance at the contents. It all feels so ridiculous and she can’t help but to break into laughter at how giddy she must look, drooling over candy like a child.

“Sooo...are you happy you opened it!?” Honey asks, as if she doesn’t already know the answer.

Elsa nods eagerly and bounces right back to her lips. “So happy. Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she gushes, punctuating each word with tiny kisses. “How did you—”

Honey’s laughter cuts her off. She grabs hold of Elsa’s face so she’ll stop kissing long enough to let her explain. “I got them during my last trip to Arendelle. Well, technically Kristoff got them because I don’t have money, but I repaid him with some new boots. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I asked him about everyone’s preferences. All your favorites should be in there.”

Elsa’s eyes stutter and she shakes her head in disbelief. Almost instinctively, she reaches her hand to run through Honey’s hair and down the back of her head, then lets it wander around the side of her face before delicately tugging at her cheek.

“What’s all this?” Honey gestures at her hand with a bemused grin.

“I’m just making sure you’re real,” Elsa explains, her voice as soft as the furs beneath them. “Sometimes, I don’t believe this is my life. That I’m here. And you’re here, so close that I can touch you—_ really _touch you.” She stares at her for a long moment, then drapes her in a tight hug, clutching her like a lifeline. “I’m so lucky.”

Honey plasters her eyes shut and breathes into Elsa’s shoulder, steeping in the openness and familiarity of the thoughts. Not once had she ever considered there might be a stranger who could understand this part of her. Someone who knows the profound ache of having grown up veiled from the world.

Before Elsa, the sky was just a story, a mere whisper through the grey mist that trapped and stunted her. When she was young, she practiced climbing as high as she could so that one day she might reach it. With a floating gaze, she would perch herself on a branch, stretch out her little hands, and pretend to touch it. She would listen in awe, clinging to every word as the elders spoke fondly of the sky. They said it was blue until the sun painted it on its way up and down, but different from any shade or tint that could be felt on the ground. 

Much of her life was spent thinking about how that blue might feel if she could ever run her fingers through it. She wondered if it would be the brisk rush of a waterfall or the gentle trickle of snow or the swirling waves of a chasmic sea, but that was the most she was ever able to do—wonder.

Then came the strangers with the true, unfiltered blue that lived just beyond her reach. Ones who sincerely wanted nothing but to help. They dissolved the mist and shattered the dam between her and the world. Suddenly, the sky was real and vast and more complex than she ever could’ve fathomed. And, suddenly, there was Elsa; a soul that bottled that complexity in a single look. 

Honey can feel the blue shining through her eyes whenever their gazes lock. It feels like everything she’d imagined, but also so much more. Sometimes it’s clear and crisp as air, or a hazy storm with heavy clouds, or deep and glowing like stars in the moonlight. To be able to hold those intricacies, to weave herself through them and forge her own path, it’s a privilege.

_ She’s_ the lucky one.

“There’s one more,” she finally says. A tacit shift washes through the hut. Her voice is quiet, almost nervous as she reaches into the basket and timidly hands her the last gift. “This is for you.”

Elsa catches the faint gulp that follows her words. Holding her gaze, she wonders what more Honey could have possibly managed to do. She’s no amateur in the business of opening gifts. The last one is always the mouthwatering dessert. If the others were snippets of Honey’s feelings, this one will surely be a novel.

She takes her time giving it the same attention; scanning every part to appreciate all the distinct details Honey sprinkled in. It’s virtually identical to the other in every manner except for size. This one is the same shape, but relatively smaller than the chocolates. Her heart flutters at the endless possibilities, but there’s no use in trying to guess what it might be. Even if she gave it all the thought in the world, nothing about this day has been in the realm of her expectations anyway.

Honey watches in anticipation as Elsa unties the stems, removes the endearing flowers, and unfolds the maple leaves to reveal a small wooden box. It looks oddly familiar and Elsa spends a long moment sifting through her mind, trying to discern why. There’s nothing particularly telling about it, aside from the outline of a diamond having been carved neatly on top. She hasn’t seen a box quite like this before. The only thing akin to it is the one she watches Honey rummage through every now and then—

A tiny gasp shoots through her as she carefully lifts the lid, finally realizing what's awaiting her. 

Inside the box is a bracelet like the one Honey is wearing, only the light brown leather has been dyed with a faint blue tinge and white symbols have been stitched into it. Elsa’s gaze flickers between the bracelet and Honey as awe pools in her eyes. Each time she opens her mouth to speak, she can only manage to sputter drawn out breaths. After a few minutes of trying, one word manages to trickle through.

“Honey…”

The appreciation beaming from her voice allows Honey’s chest to deflate with relief.

“This is a token of warmth,” she explains. “It’s a tradition here. We give them to those we have a close connection with: friends, family...anyone, really. They can mean something different depending on who they’re given to, but the boxes are meant to hold items that remind you of the person it’s from. I wanted you to have this one. Because you matter to me...a lot.”

“You made this?”

“Mhmm.” She offers a humble smile. “I tried to incorporate the pattern from your mother’s scarf, but I also wanted to add something just for you, hence the little snowflake. And next to it is the sun, which you know represents the Northuldra.”

Elsa wipes away the tears blurring her vision so she can admire Honey’s thoughtful handiwork. “It’s like yours,” she observes.

Honey nods, pushing up her sleeve and reaching out so Elsa can see. “My father gave it to me. Ryder has one from my mother.”

Elsa hesitates before cradling her hand and running her fingers over the sage colored symbols and darkened leather. She takes her time studying it, trying to memorize every detail. It’s the closest look she’s ever been able to get of Honey’s treasured bracelet. She’d always known it was important, but that’s where her understanding ended until now.

“You hardly wear this, how come?”

“I’m too afraid of losing it.” Honey shrugs, lowering her hand to her lap. “Ryder’s the same way. They’re not something we can replace.”

“Can I ask what it says?”

A twinge of sorrow flashes behind Honey’s eyes. “Carry me. Both of ours say it.”

The air stills as realization floods Elsa’s face. Honey sucks in a heavy breath and folds her mouth into a sad smile. 

“Everyone approaches their tokens a bit differently,” she explains. “My parents made them to serve as their memory. They’re meant to be pieces of them we can keep with us. I carry mine, just...mostly on the inside.”

Elsa scoots closer and rests her hand on Honey’s arm, gripping it just tightly enough to remind her she’s there. Honey’s demeanor eases up and she smiles at the contact.

“Yours is different, though,” she assures. “I know your move brought a great deal of change. It’s easy to feel out of place when you step into a world so different from the one you’ve always known...” She pauses to slip the token from the box and gently fastens it around Elsa's wrist. The brown leather contrasts her pale skin with its warmth, but the cool blue tinge and frosted thread look perfectly at home. “I just wanted to remind you that you have a place here, that you belong, and this much will always be true.”

Slowly, she traces over the symbols, then weaves her fingers with Elsa’s. “You’ve come so far in the time you’ve been here...I—I just—”

She swallows hard and collects herself.

“I thank Ahtohallan every day for calling you this way.”

The words echo through Elsa’s head and reverberate in her chest. She wants to thank her, but how can she possibly summarize the cherished novel around her wrist in two mere syllables? What unit of measurement can express the affection coursing through her veins? It feels like trying to reach through a boundless expanse or stumble through the dark. Instead, she resolves to do the one thing she knows she can when words fail her, which is to close her eyes, breathe in the comfortable air, pull her close, and scribe her gratitude onto Honey’s lips.

It’s not enough, of course, but it will have to do. At least for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re interested in the iris Honey chose for Elsa’s gifts, you can see it [here.](http://wiki.irises.org/TbPthruT/TbSongOfNorway) I thought it was a lovely little find.
> 
> Though I had a clear plan for this chapter, I struggled with actually writing it (brains are super consistent and fun and cool), so that’s why the update came a bit later than usual. 
> 
> This is now my longest fic ever and there’s still so much more to go. Originally, I wanted to try to keep the chapters under/around 2500 words, but I’ve now resigned to the fact that they’re probably going to end up being a bit longer from here on out. I hope that’s alright. I’ll try to keep it as consistent as possible and not go overboard lol.
> 
> I have the first draft of the next chapter written, so another update will hopefully come soon. Thanks to anyone sticking with this story! It means a lot to hear such kind words about a fic I’ve unexpectedly grown to care so much for <3


	7. Don't Let it Show

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter felt like it took 5ever to write so I’m forcing myself to publish it before I go crazy.
> 
> It’s flashback time again—a continuation of the last.

_ “Hold on, let me make sure Ryder’s still out,” Maren whispers. The door of their shared hut creaks open as she peers through the crack, then spins on her heels to face Elsa. “All clear,” she affirms, swinging the door open to usher her inside. With a click, she secures it by flipping down the wooden lock, then pushes on it a few times for good measure. Once certain it won’t budge, she begins wading through the inky darkness. _

_ “Let me get some light going so we can actually see each other,” she says, approaching the small fire pit at the center. A low rustle fills the hut as she sets about assembling logs and focuses on catching sparks with dry tinder. Once she’s successful, she blows on the glowing ember, then veers her gaze toward the blurry figure still hovering by the door. _

_ “You’re more than welcome to sit,” she offers between huffs. “You’re no stranger, make yourself comfortable.” _

_ There’s a moment of hesitation before Elsa follows the flecks of orange light beginning to smoke, then stiffly lowers herself onto the pelts near the kindling. _

_ Being here right now shouldn’t feel as strange as it does. This is by no means her first visit. On occasion, Maren and Ryder are kind enough to host her when the weather isn’t ideal for her evening trek back to Ahtohallan. It’s one of the few homes she’s been invited to, and definitely the one she’s spent the most time in. If she should feel comfortable anywhere in the village, it should be here. _

_ Elsa has always been particularly intrigued by their home. The other huts are large, communal ones capable of fitting eight to ten people, if not more. But theirs is modest and quaint, only meant to house the siblings along with the occasional guest or two. She’d asked Maren about it once, but her response was terse: they simply decided to live on their own after their father passed. The actual reason between her words is still lost on Elsa, but the strain in Maren’s voice had been enough to dissuade her from poking her nose any further. _

_ After all, who is she to judge someone for distancing themselves after a wound like that? That’s the most _ Elsa _ thing anyone could ever do. _

_ With her knees pulled under her chin, she watches Maren while stroking the grey and brown furs beneath her, trying to numb the dread bubbling under her skin. Through her nerves, Elsa can’t help but to admire how naturally her friend moves about. It’s calming to watch Maren’s seasoned hands at work, so steady and sure. She makes forging light look as easy as breathing. _

_ It’s an especially impressive undertaking to Elsa, because it very much does _ not _ come naturally to her. _

_ After her move, she struggled to grasp certain elements of constructing a fire. The log formations weren’t particularly difficult; she’s good at building structures and visualizing how a force will move through them. Creating a palace of ice flows through her lungs in a matter of minutes. Those are breaths she’s meant to take, the sort of task her hands are cut out for. _

_ Actually _ starting _ a fire from scratch, though...that’s a different beast entirely. _

_ Nothing had made Elsa more painfully aware of the fact that she was raised in a castle than her meager attempts at starting a fire. She’d always relied on strikers or—once she understood her magic—would simply conjure a slab of clear ice to magnify sunlight if need be. But she had resolved to leave old habits where the dense forest began. Elsa wanted to live however the Northuldra lived; wanted them to stay exactly as they were while she met them where they had already settled. _

_ Or try to, at the very least. _

_ She can thank Maren’s enduring patience for her relative sense of comfort with it now. Learning the skill took quite some time and a great deal of reassurance on Maren’s part. Each failed attempt was a grueling battle in Elsa’s mind to not feel ashamed, discouraged, or out of place—and guilty by extension of all three. The flighty friction from the stick seemed to burn everything _ except _ for what it was supposed to, which stacked an extra layer of frustration as they trudged through the cold months. Elsa spun it and spun it until her palms were red and raw, but scarcely was she met with any promising results. _

_ Nevertheless, winter had come and gone since then, and summer carried a renewed promise in its warmth. Now, Elsa’s palms are calloused like Maren’s and starting a fire doesn’t feel quite as daunting as it once did. _

_ “There we go,” Maren murmurs once the crackling light is burning steadily. After brushing herself off, she settles across from the hunched figure near her. Elsa remains still as a statue while Maren flops comfortably on her side and plops her head in her hand with a puff of air. When Maren opens her mouth to resume the chat, her laid-back tone makes it sound like they had never even stopped. _

_ “Alright, Elsa. What’s going on?” _

_ And just like that, Elsa’s palms are back to being raw and the hut may as well be drowning in darkness again. _

_ She crosses her legs out in front of her, letting her arms follow suit as her nails start to bite into her sleeves. The question sits like a rock in her stomach. She can feel her answer festering around it. Her eyes tick the minutes away as she glances between Maren and the ground, chest visibly heaving as she tries to push the answer up, not wanting to keep her suspended in silence any longer than she already has. _

_ “The fire is fresh,” Maren says softly, as if she had somehow heard the thought. “You can take your time.” _

_ The reassurance is a welcome relief, because Elsa can feel the answer digging its claws in her throat with each nudge. These words have never known the light of day, but they’re well acquainted with the shadowy chambers of her heart; all dusty and worn from the forces that caged them there. Elsa cements her eyes shut, trying to visualize the words flowing through her. Just inches away, relief dangles like bait and she coaxes them to reach for it, to trail it to the surface so she can finally, _ finally _ spit them out in a place where they might belong. _

_ “When I was young,” Elsa begins in a low whisper. “Arendelle was...different. People like me were seen as wrong.” _

_ Maren tilts her head at the sudden sound, relieved that Elsa’s voice has finally found it’s path. _

_ “People with magic,” she reiterates. _

_ Elsa feels her heart splinter. “Well. Yes. But also people like...us,” she clarifies, gesturing shyly between them. “Two women...wanting to hold hands...it wasn’t allowed.” _

_ “What? Why?” Maren squeaks, wrinkling her brow. _

_ There’s a blind shimmer in her gaze, and the sincerity of it sends a billowing ache through Elsa’s chest. Another dense rock swells in her gut as she grasps for an answer, anything that can even begin to dissect such an unfathomable question. _

_ “Why does any of it happen?” She shrugs with a defeated sigh, bitterly dropping her hands in her lap. “Someone decided that it was only something a man and a woman could do, said that anything else was dangerous, and people believed them. It’s the same reason my grandfather betrayed the Northuldra all those years ago….fear.” _

_Maren considers the word. “They fear love...?” she asks, but her pupils shrink as the last word staggers to silence. “I mean—not that this_ _is—” she stammers, motioning vaguely between them, “well, not that it _can’t, _but—”_

_ Her babbling is cut off by quiet laughter bouncing around the hut. With a quick glance up, she’s greeted by Elsa’s warm grin and feels her nerves soften instantly. _

_ “They used to, yes,” Elsa explains. The affection in her smile fades as her hands wrench instinctively. “Most people have changed their hearts but...some still struggle with the idea...” _

_ “I see,” she mutters, sobered by the somber shift in Elsa’s tone. Her eyes flit over the furs as if searching for something, though she’s not quite sure what. “It’s never been like that here. We got disapproving looks from the Arendellian soldiers, of course, but I always chalked it up to bad blood. I never realized it could be something beyond us...this is all I’ve ever known...” _

_ “And that’s all anyone should ever know,” Elsa cuts in. “It’s what I love most about the forest, how everything and everyone can just _be.”

_ There’s something detached about the sentiment. Aimless. Hollow. Like it’s meant for everyone else but her. _

_ Maren sits up and leans in slightly. “You can too, Elsa.”_

_ “It’s not that easy for me.” Elsa sways back, clinging to herself. She rummages through her mind, gathering anything she possibly can and trying to mold it into something more tangible. “Have you ever heard a story so many times, you could recite it by heart? Words that become so familiar, you can hear them even when the world is quiet?” _

_ Maren dips her head in a nod. _

_ “That’s what it feels like. I’ve heard this story all my life. Day after day. Night after night. So often that even when I’m as far away as I can possibly be, I still hear it. It whispers the same thing over and over and over again…and it doesn’t stop…” _

_ “What does it say?” _

_ Elsa swallows hard. _

_ “Don’t let it show,” she chokes the mantra out, folding inward and crumpling into a mere echo of herself. “This— _ hiding _ —is all I’ve ever known, Maren. And it’s not something anyone should.” _

_ Her inflection sounds like a plea before her voice collapses and the air is barred from her lungs. Every muscle in Elsa’s body tightens with a burning chill that cements her in place. The internal cold ripples outward as she grapples with herself. Each heavy breath scorches the ground, coating it in a thick, crackling frost that creeps slowly toward the fire... _

_ ...and toward Maren. _

_ But fear engulfs Elsa in a thick haze, clouding her from all of her senses. The black of her eyelid is where her sight ends. Within that void, she watches everything she’s not devour all that she is, and knows she’s powerless to stop it. _

_ “Elsa…” _

_ Maren tries to rouse her, but Elsa can only hear the whispers swarming her mind and every word that’s ever died on her tongue—over and over and over. The bite of crystallizing ice is lost on her skin, having already numbed herself to everything but her trembling hands… Those stupid, frustrating hands that wince at the slightest touch and keep her from reaching for what she so desperately wants. _

_ But when Maren’s steady grasp eventually finds her shoulder, Elsa doesn’t flinch. To her own surprise, she remains still and deflates as the world floods back into view. After a few strained breaths, the chill rising from the ground rattles her bones and she gasps upon noticing the hard layer of ice cloaking the floor. _

_ “It’s okay,” Maren reassures without missing a beat, gently massaging her shoulder with her thumb. “It’s just me, Elsa—just us. Everything’s okay. I’ve got you.” _

_ Elsa’s eyes widen at the contact, but Maren doesn’t waver. Against her better judgement, she keeps her touch firm, gathering that it’s the only anchor keeping Elsa from spiraling inward again. Her chest continues to heave, but the ice remains stagnant for the time being. What grows instead are the twinges of guilt stinging Maren and her increasing need to soothe Elsa’s pain. _

_ “When we sing...” she interrupts in a whisper, “our hearts beat as one, and it’s because everyone breathes together. It helps me feel calm when I’m not. I could breathe with you...if you’d like...” _

_ “Okay,” Elsa mumbles, just barely. _

_ Maren offers a promising nod. “Do what I do, alright?” _

_ Their chests rise and fall in harmony as they breathe in the charred air and let it float back out. Between prolonged blinks, Maren catches Elsa’s timid gaze and holds it carefully, refusing to drop it or let it slip away. _

_ Over and over and over again, Elsa reflects her movements until they start to become her own. She concentrates on the way Maren’s thumb glides over her skin like a gentle wave lulling her to shore. For a fleeting moment, she lets herself drown in that feeling, lets the sensation flow through every inch of her until she’s saturated in safety and her residual ice can finally melt away. _

_ “Better?” Maren asks as the last few drops dissipate. _

_ Elsa nods with a gulp, wiping her now dampened eyes. Using the same thumb, Maren catches a stray tear on her cheek as she draws her arm back. The faintest smile tugs at Elsa’s lips, but it eventually fades and pulls her down with it. _

_ “I just...don’t know if I’m ready,” she croaks. “And even if I am...I—I’m not sure I’m ready for anyone else to know, if that makes any sense…” _

_ “It makes sense,” Maren assures. She hates it, but it does. Tonight has been a potent glimpse into Elsa’s life, and there’s no doubt in her mind that she would feel the same overwhelming dread if the roles were reversed. “I wish I could change things for you, but I understand now...” _

_ “...I’m sorry,” she adds after a long pause. _

_ Elsa squints at her. “What could _ you _ possibly be sorry for?” _

_ “I made you uncomfortable earlier.” Maren looks down with an awkward twist of her hands. “I didn’t mean to.” _

_ Elsa breathes a laugh and plops her head into one palm, briefly covering her face. She peeks through her fingers and feels her heart stutter at the sight of Maren’s earthy skin bathing in the amber glow of the fire. She’s been looking at Maren this entire time, but only now does she feel like she can see her—actually _ see _ her for all that she is. Radiant, open, safe...and beautiful, of course. So, _ so _ beautiful. And for the first time, she feels like she can say that to herself without having to run the other way. For the first time, the whispers in her mind are drowned out by the ticks of her heart beating, louder and faster now that it’s exactly where it belongs. _

_ Maren’s gaze is sticky when it catches her, and Elsa’s never been happier to feel something linger on her skin. Warmth gleams through her brown irises like sunlight through syrup. Those eyes, they make her mouth water. She’s never tasted ones quite as sweet. How fitting that they belong to Honeymaren. How perfect that Honeymaren just happens to be her. How lucky that Honeymaren is sitting across from her at this very moment. _

_ The pulse thrumming in Elsa's ears grows louder as she contemplates her move, though at this point, it doesn’t take much convincing for her to finally uncover her face, reach out her hand, and let her fingers find a home between Maren’s. _

_ “This is actually the most comfortable I’ve felt in a long time,” she confesses. “Maybe even ever.” _

_ The honesty in her touch floods Maren’s veins. She soaks in the long-awaited moment, beaming as she gives her hand a gentle squeeze and lets her thumb drift over Elsa’s skin once more. _

_ Together, their faces lift like a sunrise; warm and vibrant and reliable and new. Maren steeps in the sincere peace coloring Elsa’s grin. She wants nothing more than to echo the words so Elsa can hear them and know the same is true for her. _

_ But just as she opens her mouth to speak, there’s a tug at the door and a rattle springs through the hut. _

_ Elsa sucks in a sharp breath and stiffens, reflexively jerking her hand back. The same sharp breath shakes through Maren and her own hands clench tightly as her sight zeroes in on the door. But when the disturbance is promptly followed by a familiar, rhythmic knock, she relaxes almost instantly. _

_ “It’s okay, it’s okay,” she reassures, cautiously massaging Elsa’s shoulder again. “It’s just Ryder, follow my lead.” _

_ She gets up and ambles toward the door with confidence. Sure enough, Maren shifts the lock and pushes it open to reveal Ryder waiting patiently on the other side. _

_ “Hey.” She greets him with a calm nod, then motions her head in Elsa’s direction. “A certain spirit is paying us a visit.” _

_ Ryder peers around his sister and his face sparks in a cheerful grin. “Oh, hey Elsa! I didn’t know you were still hangin’ around. It’s kinda late, isn’t it...?” _

_ “Mhmmm,” Elsa squeaks as he steps in, realizing she has absolutely no concept of how much time has passed since the first fire. _

_ “Yeah, she wasn’t sure if she felt up for the ride back, so I invited her in while she decides,” Maren explains without missing a beat. She locks the door, pushing on it again before turning to face them, gaze hovering on Elsa._

_ “Ah,” Ryder says casually, throwing his leather pack down and flopping onto the pelts with a sigh. “Well, you know you’re always welcome here. It’s really nice having company.” _

_ If Elsa hadn’t already been looking in her direction, she would’ve missed the twinge of sorrow that flashed behind Maren’s eyes as he spoke. Guilt immediately begins prickling in her chest. With a definitive breath, she does her best to mask her nerves and tread lightly. _

_ “Um...thank you,” she says awkwardly. “I think I will go back to Ahtohallan tonight, though...if that’s alright...?” _

_Ryder chuckles as he tends the fire. “Of course it’s alright. Why wouldn’t it be?” _

_ The response takes her by surprise and she stares at him for a moment, then lets her eyes flicker back to Maren. “Oh, I just...didn’t want to seem ungrateful for the invitation…” _

_ “You’re not ungrateful at all,” Maren assures with a heartfelt smile. “But if you’re going to Ahtohallan, you should head out before it gets any later.” _

_ “Right.” _

_ “Mind if I walk you to the creek?” _

_ Elsa nods. “I’d like that.” _

_ “Great.” Maren swivels back toward the door and lifts up the lock. “I’ll be back in a few, Ryde.” _

_ “It’ll be open.” Ryder waves as she steps out of the hut. “It was nice seeing you, Elsa. Safe travels.” _

_ Elsa waves back, pressing her mouth into a timid smile. “Thanks, Ryder.” _

_To her relief, she steps through the frame and out into the brisk night, meeting Maren’s gaze as the door shuts behind them. _

_ * * * _

_ Dirt crunches beneath them as they walk, arms swaying side by side and drinking in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence. Elsa finds it refreshing after an admittedly exhausting night, just being able to exist with Maren without needing to fill the space with conversation. For the first time, she has nothing left to hide in the company of someone else and it makes her feel light enough to float into the star speckled sky. _

_ “Thank you,” she says once they’ve reached the outskirts of the village. The words fly out like a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in. “You know, for listening and helping and...basically everything.” _

_ “Of course.” Maren beams. “Thank you for telling me. You know, trusting me.” _

_ “Thanks for being someone I can trust...” Elsa strings her thoughts together before continuing. “And thanks for the invitation. I’m sorry I’m not staying. Tonight was just...a lot…” She sighs. “I usually need time alone when that happens.” _

_ “Oh, I don’t mind at all,” Maren assures. “I understand, I’m the same way.” _

_ As they approach the creek, fragments of the night flash through Maren’s mind; strangled breaths, splintering ice, and twisting hands. _ _A pang of remorse crashes into her at the thought of Elsa bearing that weight alone, with nothing and no one there to soothe her. She wonders if maybe that’s why Elsa chooses to live in Ahtohallan. Perhaps the entire glacier is a safeguard for these incidents. After all, she can’t freeze the ground if it’s already frozen._

_ “You’ll be okay, though?” she asks as they stop along the bank. “On your own?” _

_ Elsa waves the thought off quickly, as if it were a reflex. “Oh, yeah. I’m very familiar with the concept.”_

_ “Well...you don’t have to be anymore, if you don’t want…” _

_ Elsa blinks at her. “Are you saying…?” _

_ “We could...just you and me.” She shrugs. _

_ “Maren, that won’t be easy...” _

_ “Being with you feels like the easiest thing in the world, Elsa. That’s all that matters to me.” She reaches out, hovering for a moment before taking Elsa’s hands. “And we made it through tonight, didn’t we?” _

_ Chuckling under her breath, Elsa looks down and watches her own thumb glide over Maren’s skin, natural as the magic coursing through her veins. “I suppose we did.” _

_Maren smirks. “So, what d’you say...? Can we keep doing this?” _

_  
“As long as you want to.” Elsa pulls her lip between her teeth, fighting a smile._

_“I very much do.” Maren’s face stretches into a wide grin. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” _

_“And the day after that.” _

_ “And the day after that,” Maren echoes._

_ After a final squeeze of their hands, they break away. Neither of them feel particularly in favor of parting, but Elsa knows she needs to leave and Maren wants whatever Elsa needs. _

_ “I’m ready if you are, Nokk,” Elsa sings, turning toward the water. _

_ Maren looks on as she swirls her hands in that distinctly magical, _ Elsa _ way, and rouses the water spirit. The translucent figure of a horse rises from the creek; eyes glowing a piercing blue and mane cascading like a waterfall down its neck. _

_ “Hey, friend.” Elsa smiles, pressing her forehead to his nose. With one deep breath, ice shimmers its way down the horse’s body, freezing him free to leap onto the bank. Maren’s witnessed Elsa’s magic countless times by now, but this manner will always be her favorite; using her power to let something else live unrestricted. _

_ The Nokk leans down, offering for Elsa to mount, and rises once she does. _

_ “See you, Maren.” Elsa smiles softly, holding her gaze for as long as she can until the horse turns and gallops away. _

_ Maren finds herself standing there long after they’ve dissolved into the distance, trying to let all the events settle into her chest. For so long, she’s wondered if this was possible. Ever since their first fireside chat on the night they met, she’s felt the nagging desire to know if Elsa saw her the same way. _

_ Miraculously, she does. And now Maren finally, _ finally _ knows. _

_ Everything. This one night has managed to give her everything, and she wants nothing more than to shout it from the treetops. There’s a new vitality buzzing inside her. She feels drunk off of sheer joy; the kind of drunk that makes her feel capable of crossing the Dark Sea with the pure adrenaline surging through her body. _

_ But she’s not going to do any of that. _

_ Instead, she’s going to do what she always does, which is saunter back to her quaint little hut and lock the door behind her. Ryder will ask her about her day and she’ll tell him it was nice; that two reindeer calves were born while he was fishing, and he’ll be sad that he wasn’t there for it. The fire will eventually fizzle out and they’ll fall asleep. Or rather, Ryder will fall asleep while she hums with excitement alone in the hushed night. _

_ It’s okay, though. She can save the gushing for when Elsa’s in her hands again. Tomorrow. She’ll see her tomorrow. And the day after that...and the day after that. What a spectacular thing to be able to say, if only to herself. _

_With that thought, Maren flashes one last, giddy smile into the night before tucking it away and treading home. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you _so_ much for such sweet responses to the last chapter. For real. I particularly enjoyed writing that one and I loved hearing everyone's reactions. I promise there are more moments like that in store.
> 
> I have this story pretty thoroughly mapped out and honestly can’t believe how much it’s evolved compared to where it started. It’s been nice to have something constructive to focus on during a particularly rough period. Fingers crossed the momentum continues because I’m very excited about getting to share what’s to come……<s>literally</s>
> 
> All this to say, I’m having a blast and I hope you are too. Thank you so much for reading and for all the kind words so far <3


	8. Purple and Yellow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry about the long wait for this update. My life has been considerably not great the past few months and it’s taken a toll on my mental health, so focusing can be a challenge at times. I felt burnt out after the last chapter and needed to step away for a minute, but I love this story and will do my best to ensure it gets finished. I wanted to make sure I was feeling good about writing this chapter because it’s an important one. 
> 
> **Things get kinda spicy for a minute, but nothing too intense.  
This is a time where I really can’t separate the physical intimacy from the plot.**
> 
> Without further adieu...
> 
> *kronk voice*  
Oh yeah. It’s all coming together.

Elsa quite likes when it rains. Growing up, dreary days had a way of making her feel lighter. With rain came reason, and with reason came relief, because it was no longer just her powers keeping her inside.

Those days held the kinder memories from when the gates were closed. Whenever they happened, Elsa would curl up next to her window with her latest find from the castle library and lose herself to whatever world sat waiting between the pages. Some of the worlds were real and some weren’t, but both were a welcome respite from her own.

She read like this most other days as well, but rain was the best company for reading, she’d decided. The steady patter against the glass felt like a quiet friend she could sit with and just _ be. _ Elsa always appreciated how they could exist separately, but together. 

It was the kind of friend who taught her new games, too. On occasion, she would look up and pretend the droplets were racing down her window. If it fell heavy, she liked to count the time between roars of thunder vibrating in her chest. But her most beloved game was one that could only be played during soft drizzles. It wasn’t even a game, really. She would simply sprawl out on her bed with her eyes closed and imagine she was lying in the midst of it. 

The grass was Elsa’s favorite place to lie down; specifically, the open fields on the outskirts of the kingdom. Whenever she was there, water tickled her cheeks and the breeze kissed her skin. She breathed in the scent of damp soil like it was the only pocket of air at the bottom of the fjord. If she had actually been there, the mud would’ve certainly stained her dress. But that didn’t matter when her eyes were closed. 

And even if it did, she couldn’t bring herself to care anyway.

To this day, Elsa swears she can feel and smell the rain without ever needing to step outside. It’s equal parts muted and vivid. It’s there when it seems nothing else is, and never asks for anything in return. She’s convinced it yields its own sort of magic, because she can always count on it to shrink the world in a way that makes sense.

That’s why the muscles between her ribs relax ever so slightly when midday approaches and her old friend greets her once more. Streaks of golden sunlight fade through the door frame as rain begins to clink against the pointed wooden hut. 

There aren’t any books or windows here, but everything in Honey’s home feels like grass and smells like damp soil. Only now, Elsa's eyes are open. She isn’t sprawled out on her bed, but cozied up by the fire with her head resting in Honey’s lap. And she doesn’t have to worry about getting mud on her dress.

But even if she did, it’s not like she’s wearing one anyway.

“You know, green really suits you,” Honey observes. Her eyes trace over the woven sweater beneath the bowl of cloudberries on Elsa’s stomach.

“Well, it is my second favorite after blue.” Elsa pops a berry into her mouth with a smile, then reaches to press one to Honey’s lips.

“That’s why we make a good pair,” Honey says as she chews.

“Mhmm,” Elsa nods, “because blue is your second favorite, right after green.”

“But not just_ any _ green,” Honey teases, gently combing through the blond strands across her lap. 

“Of course not. Green like the moss near the streams and blue like the sky on the day you first saw it.”

The words flutter in the pit of Honey’s stomach. She hadn’t expected her to recall them so easily. They sound familiar on her tongue, like Elsa’s stitched them into her memory the way she would a favorite song or poem. 

Which is precisely what Elsa had done when they first spoke about it. She’s never heard anyone talk about colors the way Honey does, especially ones in the sky. It’s charming, the way she sees things. Nothing goes unnoticed, from the tiniest bug on the ground to the ocean of blue above her. Joy swells in Elsa’s chest knowing the sky meant so much to her that day. To be a shade in her favorite blue feels like the highest honor.

“Did you think I’d forget?” she chuckles, then continues before Honey has a chance to test her. “And your third is yellow, like honeysuckle petals, whereas mine is purple.”

“Which makes us an even better pair, right? Because they’re brighter when they’re next to each other…?”

A smile tugs on Elsa’s lips. Whenever they talked about colors, she was delighted to learn what Honey’s third favorite was. As a teenager, she happened upon some books on the basics of art and color theory, and thus learned about complementary colors as she sped through them.

It surprised her to find the topic so enthralling, because math has always been Elsa’s subject of choice. It’s cut and dry and she appreciates that, but she’d never considered how systematic art could be, too. There’s more science behind colors than she’d realized. It all has to do with how much light is absorbed and reflected. They require their own kind of math; calculating how much pigment to add and determining which ones to combine to be effective. There’s a different formula for every shade, and the smallest detail can change the outcome. 

Technically, complementary colors can clash or even become dull when mixed entirely, but Elsa learned that if artists are intentional about how they’re used, they can exist harmoniously and make each other stronger. Nothing excited her more than sharing this knowledge with Honey, because she’s always believed purple and yellow are the most pleasing opposites.

“I see you remember that little lesson,” Elsa says.

“Did you think I’d forget?” Honey smirks, then struggles to lean down and presses an awkward kiss to her forehead. Both of them laugh at her attempt and she playfully nudges Elsa’s shoulder.

“Okay, get up here so I can kiss you properly,” she chuckles.

Without a second thought, Elsa sets the bowl of berries aside and rises. Once upright, Honey wastes no time and leans in to kiss her long and deep. Elsa’s entire body sighs into her. Kissing this woman feels just like a drop of rain soaking into the earth. There’s an entire world in Elsa’s arms; one she can hold, one that makes sense. Everything is where it’s exactly supposed to be. Everything feels _ right. _

They part with giggles on their breath, foreheads pressed together and still wrapped in each other's arms. Their laughter soon fades and the crackling fire fills the space between them. It’s a nice kind of quiet as they hold each other; the comfortable kind where they can sit and just be.

It’s a stark contrast to how their morning began, and Honey is grateful that Elsa's disposition has lightened since waking from her nightmare. Minutes pass as her gaze floats to the ceiling, then drifts to the ground while she turns something over in her mind. “You know...” she muses, “I’m surprised and almost offended that you haven’t eaten any chocolate yet.”

Elsa’s heart jumps at the reminder. “You, my dear, make an _ excellent _point,” she sings, pulling away to reach for the box. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some serious matters to attend to.”

She can feel Honey’s eyes roll back without even needing to look at her. 

Before the mist was lifted, Honey had never tasted chocolate. During their first trip to Arendelle, Elsa made it a priority to whisk her and Ryder off to the confectionery and let them pick whatever caught their eyes. Ryder scarfed everything down in a matter of minutes, but Honey could barely make it through the first few bites with a straight face. She looked almost in pain as she ate. She said it was too sweet for her, that it hurt her teeth. Elsa knows Honey can’t help it, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel a pinch of disappointment about her reaction.

_ Sigh. _ Her distaste is a bitter truth to accept, but for Honey, Elsa supposes she can try.

Through pursed lips, she fights a grin as she scoops up the box, plucking one of the irises from her bouquet along the way. In one fell swoop, she tucks it behind Honey’s ear and plants a quick peck to her cheek. After sitting back, her gaze drags over Honey, appreciating how the pale flower glows against her tan skin and dark hair.

“What?” Honey squints at the attention.

Elsa flashes a heartfelt grin. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with flowers in your hair... You’re just very beautiful, is all. And the iris only highlights it,” she says, reaching to brush loose strands behind her ear.

A warm hue of red spreads across Honey’s cheeks. “And a beautiful iris it is,” she whispers, smooth as silk as she slants forward. “Another reason we go so well together.” 

Their lips meet for a brief moment. When they part, the tone shifts as Honey grips her firmly by the shoulders with an urgent look. “Okay, sweetheart,” she chirps, “I need you to eat some chocolate before I go crazy. I’m dying to know if I picked the right ones.”

Well… Elsa’s not going to argue with that.

Suppressing a giddy smile, she pulls the lid off the box to reveal an assortment of chocolates, all equally enticing. Her mouth waters as she scans over the choices. She almost doesn’t know where to start.

Resolving to let fate decide, she looks away and picks one at random. Elsa abandons all refined manners and devours the first piece in a single bite. A moan of approval escapes as the treat melts on her tongue; she doesn’t even try to stop it. 

“That sounded promising,” Honey says coyly.

Elsa nods, a lazy grin taking to her lips as if she’s slipped into a warm bath. Just barely, she catches sight of Honey’s shoulders relaxing at the confirmation; she hadn’t even noticed they were so tense.

“Thank goodness Kristoff actually knew what he was talking about…” Honey says.

One side of Elsa’s grin curls up. “Did he give you a reason to believe he didn’t?”

“He kept going back and forth. I think—_I_ _hope_—he knew Anna’s favorites at least, but I wasn’t entirely convinced he wasn’t picking random ones for everyone else.”

With a chuckle, Elsa buries her face in her palm. “That does sound like Kristoff.”

Honey agrees with a fond sigh, shaking her head. “I can’t blame him, though. He didn’t know what I was trying to do.”

“You both chose well,” Elsa assures. “This is exactly what I needed, Honey, thank you.” She selects another piece and hums as she eats. The chocolate is sweet and creamy and tastes _ so _ much like Arendelle. How Honey could ever dislike such a heavenly taste is beyond her. It can’t be possible to hate _ all _ chocolate, _ forever. _Surely, there’s some form even she could appreciate—

“Wait! Wait... I have the most incredible idea,” Elsa blurts out, reaching for the bowl of cloudberries. “How have I never done this before? What’s wrong with me!?” 

With unwavering focus, she pairs an orange berry with a piece of chocolate, then pops both into her mouth. Her eyes widen with a sparkle as she meets Honey’s skeptical gaze. “Oh, come on, you _ have _ to taste this! Honestly, I think you might like it!”

Her suggestion is met with a sigh. “You’re really going to die on this hill, aren’t you?”

“Oh, without a doubt,” Elsa deadpans, then her face softens. “I mean it, though. The tart balances everything out. Here, I’ll give you the tiniest piece with a big berry. Please?”

“What was that last part…?” Honey teases with a smug grin. Elsa blinks at her; it takes a minute to recognize the bit from last night. Once she does, she bites her lip with a glare. 

Ridiculous. This woman is absolutely ridiculous. And because that’s one of Elsa's favorite qualities...she humors her.

_ “Please...” _

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

Honey looks far too satisfied as she relents. Elsa groans inside, ignoring her feigned arrogance as she preps the piece. 

“Okay, I’m giving you dark chocolate, so it’s already less sweet.” She gently feeds her. Watching intently, Elsa tries to dissect every micro-expression flickering though her face as she chews. It takes so long for Honey to react, Elsa is certain their anniversary has already come and gone in that time. The leaves have probably started changing, too. 

“Okay, okay...” Honey finally hums, closing her eyes in defeat. “I admit, that’s pretty good.”

“FINALLY!” Elsa bursts out, throwing her arms up and plopping them down with added drama.

Honey’s eyes shoot open, unamused. “Are you done...?” 

“Shhh, let me have my moment,” Elsa insists with a relieved sigh. “It’s happened. I’ve finally done it. I’ve ridden you of your one fault and now you’re perfect.”

“Oh, me not liking chocolate has been your biggest problem this entire time?” Honey jokes, narrowing her eyes.

Shrugging, Elsa whips her hair behind her shoulders and begins chomping on another sweet. “I’m a complex woman, Honey,” she mumbles with her mouth full. “If you don’t understand chocolate, you don’t understand me.”

“Spirits, give me strength,” Honey mutters under her breath. Fighting a smile, she massages her temple and stares blankly into the distance.

Elsa doesn’t like to call attention to her title as a spirit, because for all intents and purposes, she’s still human. But after that “please” bit Honey just pulled...nothing is off limits. “If you’re looking for a spirit, you’re looking the wrong way,” she teases, leaning into Honey’s line of vision with one brow arched.

A sarcastic groan rolls out as Honey swerves her gaze to the ceiling. “You’re lucky I already gave you that token,” she says dryly.

When no banter returns, Honey’s eyes are called back down. She finds Elsa with her arm pressed to her chest, cradling her wrist while her thumb sweeps over the leather bracelet. She pores over it for a long moment with a sobered expression, then looks up and draws Honey’s frame to hers. Her arms clamp around her body in a tight hug before pressing their heads together.

“I am lucky,” Elsa whispers against her lips. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this—to deserve you.”

“You didn’t have to do anything,” Honey says softly. “I’d choose you over and over; tomorrow, and the day after that...”

“And the day after that,” Elsa finishes. She closes the space between their lips, gripping one hand under Honey’s jaw and weaving the other into her hair. Warmth pools in Honey’s stomach as she arches into the contact. Her body sways forward, deepening the kiss until a fragment of the previous night flashes through her mind, prompting her to break away.

“Were you really going to use your hands last night?” she interrupts, gently pushing back.

Elsa returns a reluctant nod. “I wanted to try. I was feeling brave after everything. Yesterday was...different. A good different. I liked it.”

She’s certainly right about that. It was different; less filtered and restrained than their previous encounters. It unlocked a boldness neither of them realized they possessed or wanted in return. Delight spreads through Honey’s chest upon learning what it did for Elsa’s comfort and confidence.

Until now, using her hands has been a bridge Elsa can’t seem to cross. Honey believes she’s more than capable, but doubt always manages to wedge itself between where she is and where she wants to be. On the rare occasions Elsa has tried to step forward, her hesitation lasts just long enough to yank her back. Though Honey doesn’t mind in the slightest, she’s not entirely sure what’s keeping her in place. Controlling her powers while being intimate has never been an issue. Though Honey assures her she feels safe, Elsa insists that the idea of using her hands feels different.

Even when they are together, her touch only tends to move as her body reacts, grazing and grasping whatever’s closest. Whenever she does venture off, it’s under Honey’s encouragement and guidance. That’s why she never considered Elsa intended to follow through when her hand began wandering on its own last night. Apparently, she was wrong...

A twinge of guilt pulls Honey’s eyes to the ground.

“I liked it, too,” she admits. “I’m sorry I stopped you… I was just excited to tell you about today. It’s been in the making for a long time.”

Bracing her thumb under Honey’s chin, Elsa draws her attention back. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Like you said, I have all day to return the favor…” A darkened gaze brushes over Honey. “Which I’d like to do now, if that’s okay with you,” Elsa purrs, catching her lip between her teeth.

Her newfound confidence sends Honey’s nerves into a frenzy, and she leans forward until hot breath is buzzing against her skin. 

“I want nothing more,” she whispers.

Wasting no time, Elsa locks her in a deep kiss, earning a sigh as her tongue sweeps into the motions. Tightening her grip, she carefully works to lower Honey down on the pelts. Once situated, Honey’s strong arms pull her in so their bodies are flush, and Elsa’s hips begin to roll between her legs on their own accord.

Knowing how long she’s waited for this, Elsa keeps her movements slow and steady, wanting to make it last as long as possible. Wet lips trail to the side of Honey’s neck, and Elsa lets her teeth graze over her pulse point before gently sucking down. She’s careful not to leave a mark there, intent on treating Honey with the same care afforded to her.

“Elsa…” Honey drawls, panting as the sensations drown out the rest of the world. She’s positively kicking herself for stopping this last night. Every inch of her body is already burning with need. She loses herself in the fluid rhythm of Elsa’s hips as her tongue slides over her skin. It’s intoxicating, what she’s capable of when doubt is stripped away. The world around Honey fades and all she can hear are gravelly hums against her ear—

No, wait...

She can hear something else. The rain. Except, it’s growing louder, almost as if the walls around them have evaporated. She can feel it too; the slight chill from a draft sweeping in. That’s when she realizes...

The door. 

The door is opening. 

She didn’t lock it? Impossible.

Honey never, _ ever _ forgets to lock the door.

And yet, there’s a figure stepping through it at this very moment.

There’s no time to think. Pulse now throbbing in her skull, Honey clamps Elsa’s face to the side of her neck on instinct, using her arms to shield as much of her as possible. 

At the same time, the door swings shut and a deep, startled voice cuts through the air. “_ Ah! _Jeez, I’m sorry!”

A small wave of relief washes over Honey when she recognizes her brother. She looks up, catching sight of him just as he halts and averts his eyes to the ceiling.

“Yikes,” he spouts nervously, “Wow, I’m _ so _ sorry, guys. I did _ not _ mean to—”

“Ryder! Leave. Now. _Please,” _Honey barks, adrenaline fueling her volume and tone. Elsa’s body is trembling against her now, charging Honey’s already frantic nerves.

“Uh, right—yeah—leaving now...” Ryder spins around with haste. 

The door creaks open.

The rain fades away.

And they’re alone once more.

Honey turns her vision to the ceiling in a daze, every muscle in her body taut as a bowstring. She breathes to quell the frenzy in her own mind while Elsa shudders in her arms. At least, she _ thinks _ it’s Elsa shaking. It could just as easily be her, too. 

_ It was only Ryder, _ she reminds herself. _ Nothing else, just Ryder. _

She thinks this over and over, aiming to steady herself so she can shift her focus to Elsa. Honey can feel sharp sniffles gust over her skin as cold tears course down her neck. It’s been less than a minute since Ryder first stepped through, but it was enough time for Elsa to completely unravel. 

“Sweetheart...I’m so sorry...” Honey whispers, pulling her close and rubbing a soothing hand along her back. Almost instantly, Elsa jerks away and slides off her body.

“Stop, please...” she weeps.

“Okay! I’m sorry...” Honey’s voice falters as she draws her hand back and rises to her knees. 

Shock floods her body as Elsa rolls onto the ground next to her, facing away and curling up on her side. Pale hands clasp over her face, and Honey’s heart sinks when her chest begins heaving and sobs flood the hut.

“He saw us,” Elsa chokes out.

“It’s okay, Elsa,” Honey reassures from a distance. “Ryder doesn’t mind, really. None of us do.”

_ “I do!” _she hisses.

“I— I know,” is all Honey can manage in return. It stings to see how small she’s become. All the progress Elsa has made seems to wither away as grief wracks her body. The entire world shifts. The air goes stale. The rain falls harder. The ground gets cold.

The ground.

A quick glance down confirms what Honey already knows; a powerful frost is spreading throughout her home. The chill ripples outward and crawls steadily toward the fire. Only, it’s moving faster than she remembers, relentlessly swallowing everything in its path. Realizing this, Honey springs into action.

“Elsa…” She fights to keep her voice leveled. “Sweetheart, you’re freezing the ground.”

Honey continues talking, offering anything she can think to rouse Elsa from the pits of her mind, but nothing seems to reach her. Her volume builds as she tries, but she fears that shouting will call unwanted attention from anyone outside, which is the _ last _ thing they need right now.

Left with no other choice, Honey goes against her better judgement. There’s only one anchor she is certain will work, because she’s seen it work before. Heart thrumming in her ears, she hovers her hand for a long moment before finally gripping Elsa’s shoulder.

“Hey! Please, just look at me for a second..._ Elsa!” _

The fire sizzles into smoke as Elsa throws her arm out, shoving Honey off.

_ “Maren, STOP!” _

She yells it this time, actually yells, and a blast of ice shoots from her hand as her arm swings back. Air sweeps through Honey’s hair as it flies past and ends with a loud thud. She turns to find the door encased in a thick frost, undoubtedly frozen shut.

Eyes blank and mouth agape, Honey stares at the tiny spikes jutting out from the rime. Physically, she’s unharmed, but something managed to cut through her as the ice surged by. Somewhere in her chest, a strange ache bubbles. Her blood turns cold and she shoots up to her feet, vision blurring as tears begin spilling over her cheeks. 

Did she just say..._ Maren? _

Maybe that’s the root of what she’s feeling. How long has it been since Elsa called her that behind closed doors? She’s never been fond of nicknames, but Elsa is an exception—Ryder being the other. Hearing her use Maren outside is different; all fine and normal. But inside? It feels utterly wrong at this point. To Elsa, she’s Honey. And this is the only place she gets to be that...

But not anymore, apparently.

And somehow, that feels worse than almost being struck by jagged ice.

The hut is overcome with a hollow silence as Honey’s gaze darts between Elsa and the door. Having heard the collision, Elsa sits up, and her face falls when she catches sight of the extinguished fire. It’s not until turning around that she realizes what’s become of the entrance. Once she does, her heart plummets into her gut.

“Oh my god!” she gasps. “Oh my god… Honey, are you okay? Honey?”

The sound of her name twists like a knife in Honey’s wound. Everything inside of her winces when she hears it.

“I— I think I should go...” she whispers, wiping her face dry.

Elsa's eyes widen. “What?”

“I need to leave,” she repeats.

“Wait, please. I didn’t mean to. I’m sor—”

“Don’t!” she snaps. “Not now... Just thaw the door.”

“I don’t know if I ca—”

“STOP!” Honey shouts. “You know exactly what to do! We go through this _ every. single. time.” _ Startled by the fury in her voice, she reels in a deep breath, then continues, “You're perfectly capable, Elsa. Take a minute, breathe, and calm down so I can go.”

She doesn’t wait for a response before scrambling around in search of her fur-lined hat and boots. Once she finds them, she pulls her hair into a low ponytail and throws them on with haste. It’s not like her to leave home without her hair braided, but at this point, she would step outside stark naked if it means being able to leave.

Positioning herself by the door, Honey stands with her hands balled into fists at her sides. She knows her reaction is hurting Elsa, but in this moment, she can’t bring herself to care. Why should she? How has Elsa cared for her since the door first opened? Ryder hadn’t done his signature knock—something just barged through and Elsa didn’t even look to see if she was okay. It could’ve been anything. The mere thought of it is enough to make Honey shiver.

Normally, a door that won’t budge is the one comfort she can rely on, but the one behind her right now is suffocating. It feels like the world is collapsing around her. She has to get out. Needs to be with herself; hear her own thoughts, breathe her own breaths, and cry her own tears. Just Honey. No one else.

_ “Hurry. Up.” _ she mumbles through gritted teeth.

The words do everything but ease Elsa into melting the ice. Instead, she spouts apologies between desperate sobs. She’s sorry for crying. She’s sorry for the door. She’s sorry she can’t melt it. She’s sorry, she’s sorry, she’s sorry. The phrase wears Honey’s patience brittle as a dry leaf, until finally, she crumbles.

“Stop apologizing and thaw the door, Elsa!” she interrupts with a bitter shout. “Stay in here however long you want, but I need to leave! _ NOW!” _

Shaken by her tone, Elsa clings to herself and cements her eyes shut. Honey puts the sight out of her mind and turns her focus to the door, watching intently for any drips. She’s not sure how much time has passed before Elsa’s breathing begins to steady, but the pace at which the frost melts is so agonizingly slow, she knows she can’t wait for it to thaw completely. 

Once it’s thin enough, she yanks the handle with all the force she can muster. Ice shatters around the frame and fragments fly to the ground. Splattering rain saturates the air as Honey swings it open, not bothering to look back before bounding through the exit.

Her feet sink in the mud as beads of rain trail down her face. With one long, heavy breath, she slams the door shut, squares her shoulders, and strides away from home.

Away from Elsa.

Alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *kronk voice*  
Oh no, it’s all falling apart.
> 
> Ahhh, I’m _so_ happy to finally reach this point in the story. Things are just getting started and I’m excited about everything ahead. I promise there are many soft moments to come, but we’ve gotta trudge through the bulk of the angst first, which is primarily what the next few chapters will be. You can rest assured that if there are any opportunities to sprinkle in fluff along the way, these softies are already ten steps ahead.
> 
> Also, I drafted the chocolate and cloudberry scene a while back. I was curious about the taste, so I spent too much money on [cloudberry preserves](https://doctorthedoctor.tumblr.com/post/190886596529/if-anyone-is-reading-just-one-wordi-want-you-to), as you do. Can confirm that Elsa has the right idea; I also think it pairs well with dark chocolate.
> 
> Anyway, I hope to have the next chapter up soon. Thanks to anyone sticking with this story and for the kind words that are keeping me going. They are very much appreciated <3
> 
> If you’d like to find me between updates, feel free to drop by my tumblr @doctorthedoctor and say hi :)


	9. Water and Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, friends, I hope you’re doing okay with everything going on. Just wanna start by sending hugs to anyone who needs them right now  
ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ  
I was going to wait to publish this chapter for editing purposes, but I know distractions are welcome right now.
> 
> We’re still in the middle of the angst and I stuck to my plan for this chapter, but I tried not to make it too heavy considering the state of the world. 
> 
> **Still, tread carefully if death/illness are topics you need to stay away from. It’s brief, but just a heads up.**
> 
> **If you ever have to skip a chapter due to the warnings, please let me know if you’d like a summary. I can easily add one to the end note, no problem at all. (If you’re not comfortable with asking for one on here, feel free to drop me an anonymous ask on tumblr @doctorthedoctor).**
> 
> All that said, this chapter makes my heart smile and I hope it can do the same for you. Please sit back and enjoy some quality time with Honeymaren and Ryder.

It’s quiet by the river, but her mind is still screaming. Resting on a large rock along the bank, Honeymaren runs her hands through a patch of moss beside her, mulling over the day’s events. The air is thick and muggy as rain continues to pour steadily overhead. Every fiber of her tunic is soaked and weighs heavy on her frame, but she tries not to let it bother her. Moving is out of the question. Right now, this is the only place she wants to be. 

She likes it here, she always has. There’s something freeing about affording herself stillness while the water rushes past. The levels are high today, brimming the edge of the muddy bank and threatening to spill over. Her gaze follows the path of the rapid current, then halts as she catches sight of a newt camouflaged on a nearby rock. 

It’s a shame that’s not a salamander, she thinks. There’s a certain blue and purple fire spirit Honeymaren wouldn’t mind a visit from right about now. But this newt is unfortunately brown like muck and nowhere near as adorable as Bruni. Oh, Bruni. She wonders what he’s up to right now; where he might be and if Elsa’s there, too. Or if she’s still curled up and sobbing on the floor of her home.

Her shoulders slump at the thought while her eyes trace over the bordering stones. A damp blanket of her favorite green. But not just any green, of course.

_ “Green like the moss near the streams and blue like the sky on the day you first saw it.” _

Elsa’s voice floods her mind before she can muffle the sound. Honeymaren sighs. The sky isn’t blue today, but a muted grey that matches the ache in her chest. Sheets of dull clouds clog the sunlight from reaching her skin, and the familiarity of it is enough to make her stomach churn. She’s never been fond of rainy days, but she harbors a particular disdain toward them now. They feel just like the mist; dense and dark and numb enough to make her wonder if she’s even really free.

When she was young, it was hard not to feel a pang of bitterness when the Northuldra called themselves the people of the sun. It felt like a stinging reminder of all she couldn’t see. Sunny days held their own kind of charm in the mist, but they paled in comparison to the one she’s come to know in its absence. Now, Honeymaren much prefers the comfort of pure sunlight. And given the choice between the sun and the rain, she’ll choose the sun every time. 

Because the sun brings light. 

And light makes color.

And Honeymaren _ loves _ colors.

For most of her life, she was blind to the hues of the outside world. Mornings and evenings painted the sky in mere echoes of what was actually there, but that changed the day Anna and Elsa freed the forest. They didn’t know it at the time, but they had given her brother the best belated birthday gift he’s ever received. 

On the first clear morning, Honeymaren and Ryder woke up extra early, fastened their tokens around their wrists, and posted themselves in a tree to watch the sunrise together. Until then, all the details and nuances had been lost to them, but they could see every vivid streak blazing overhead that morning; warm hues of pink, yellow, and orange splattered along a cool backdrop of blue and purple. 

Ryder said it looked like an artist swallowed every color and spit them onto the clouds. Honeymaren couldn’t help but laugh at the comparison. He was kind of right; it didn’t seem like they should go together, but somehow, it worked. Not only did it work, it was breathtaking. They would’ve swam in that sunrise if they could have.

Even now, the memory paints a smile in her chest. Pulling her knees to her chin, she keeps her eyes fixed on the water, letting her mind drift further and further away while her fingers graze the moss beside her—

Then a new voice swoops into her thoughts, except this one is actually there. 

“Figured I’d find you up here.” 

She places it immediately and the newt slides into the river with a _ plop _as her brother steps closer. The sounds yank her mind back, but Honeymaren keeps her focus on the rippling current, refusing to look up.

“Yeah, I came here ‘cause I want to be _ alone,” _she grumbles.

“Well, that’s unfortunate, ‘cause I’m here and I _ don’t,” _ Ryder dishes back. “What are you even doing?”

“Brooding.”

Ryder blinks at her. “Maren. It’s pouring.”

“Exactly,” she shrugs, “perfect brooding conditions.”

“You’re ridiculous and also…” he studies her for a long moment, “soaked! C’mon, we need to get you home.” 

“I don’t want to.”

Ryder’s tone stiffens. “I wasn’t asking, Mare. You’re gonna get sick if you stay out here.”

She scoffs on the inside, knowing she’s well past the window in which going home would save her. Even if it _ could _ do her any good, she still wouldn’t go. That door is the last thing she wants to see right now.

“Is she still there?”

“Who, Elsa? No... Is she supposed to be?”

The staticky flow of the river fills the pause while Honeymaren thinks. When she finally shrugs again, Ryder’s face plummets into realization.

“Oh no... I caused a fight, didn’t I?”

“What happened to my uninterrupted day?” 

The words come out sharp and dry like an accusation, and Ryder winces.

“Yeah, about that… I’m _ really _ sorry, Mare. I know I promised but I— I had some trouble sleeping last night and I didn’t think to bring my token...”

Honeymaren has to fight her eyes from snapping shut. Though she tries to ignore it, her bones begin to ache as if on cue. She steals a glance at the bracelet on his wrist, then looks down at her own. Honeymaren was nine and her brother was six when they were given their tokens. The words read the same, but the leather of Ryder’s is light like reindeer fur and adorned with crimson stitching. 

_ “Just like the leaves on the day we met you,” _their mother crooned when she first fastened it on. 

Her hands were already weak by that point, and Ryder had to sit on the ground so she could reach him. Not even a month later, the words on Ryder’s bracelet found their purpose as they said their first goodbye. She chose him because they got less time together, because his memory was more likely to fade as he grew. As young as she was, Honeymaren understood. And bearing her father’s token worked out in its own cruel sort of way.

“They’ve been on my mind, you know?” Ryder admits. “With the festival coming up and all. So much has changed... I just wish they were here to see it.”

Honeymaren’s hands fall back to the moss.

She knows. She wishes they were here, too.

Neither of them say anything for a minute. Even words can’t fill this space sometimes. They know they just have to exist until things don’t feel so empty again. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Honeymaren wrings out a heavy breath and lets herself remember.

Spring was when she met her parents. It came as a surprise. She wasn’t expected until the start of summer, but they said she was eager to see the world and that’s why she turned up a bit early. Her body wasn’t quite ready, though, and she got off to a weak start as a result. It laid a shaky foundation brimming with uncertainty, but the next surprise came when she started getting stronger. None of the healers could explain why or how. Honeymaren just sort of... did.

_ “You’re just like the moss near the streams,” _ her father used to say. _ “Persistent and resilient. If you ever dry out, water and time should do the trick.” _

As for Ryder, it only makes sense that he was an autumn baby. The entire season is like a cozy hug that eases the world forward, and that’s exactly who her little brother is. A gentle nudge. An open palm. A warm smile that can soften even the most calloused heart. It pains her to say it, but Honeymaren needs that. She knows she does. Since the day they met, he’s always been there, right on time. 

That’s why, when the emptiness passes, Ryder’s quiet voice carries her back to the world.

“Listen. I pulled on the door to see if you were there, and because it was unlocked, I thought you left. ‘Cause that’s how we’ve always done it. If it was locked, I was just gonna forget it.” He pauses for a moment, eyes narrowing as he studies her. “And I didn’t knock because I never in a million years expected you to be inside. It’s... not like you to leave the door unlocked...”

Honeymaren’s jaw clenches. He’s right, that’s _ not _ like her. Not even a little. He’s watching as if he’s waiting to hear the reason, but she’s just as lost as he is. She doesn’t understand how she managed to forget. The distant ghost of the door creaking open is enough to make her blood freeze and heart thunder. Ryder was intentional about every single action, and what was she? Careless. Honeymaren could scream from all the anger rooted inside herself. Everything he’s done after everything she’s put him through... it’s all for her, so she could do this. 

And she now can’t. even. do. it.

“So... we’re still brooding, huh?” Ryder interrupts. When his sister stays quiet, he deflates with a huff. “C’mon, Mare. If you won’t go home, can we at least find some coverage?”

Still, Honeymaren doesn’t budge, and Ryder throws his hands up in defeat.

“Okay! Fine. Sit out here as long as you want—” he carefully scales the slick rock and settles next to her— “but I’m staying. And it’ll be your fault if I get sick.”

A long groan follows, but Ryder doesn’t need to hear it to know that he’s won. That’s the thing about his sister; she can insist she doesn’t care about what happens to her until her throat runs dry, but she’ll never let someone she loves do the same. She’s selfless to a fault, but it comes in handy during moments like these.

It wasn’t a bluff, though, and Honeymaren knows that. If she stays, Ryder stays. That’s just how it goes. Her brother will plant himself wherever he’s needed, even if it comes at his own expense. He’s selfless to a fault, and this haunts her more than she cares to admit.

Without waiting for a confirmation, Ryder climbs off and stretches out his hand. Honeymaren only glances at it before turning away. Her own stubbornness nags her to her feet, but on the way up, she realizes she’s forgotten how slick the rock is. Thankfully, she catches herself before it becomes an embarrassing fall. And then, she’s just frustrated—the prickly kind that makes her want to scream again.

Ryder doesn’t even react, offers no witty remark or smug grin to tease her. He simply keeps his hand raised and waits patiently with his eyes on the ground. 

His sister steals another glance at his open palm, frowns, and takes it.

_* * *_

It doesn’t take long for them to find shelter. They settle in the mouth of a shallow cave and rest their backs against the cool stone. The two dry off the best they can, which for Ryder means damp and Honeymaren means drenched.

A thin silence takes over when their movements die out. Honeymaren sits unsettlingly still, wearing a somber, pensive look. Ryder waits a while, just to see if his sister will start talking on her own, though he knows she won’t. He still thinks it’s worth giving her the chance, though.

Not quite sure what to say, he clears his throat until words start to form.

“So—uhm—_ ahem _—how long have, uh, you and Elsa...?”

Honeymaren looks up as his voice trails off. He was bound to ask, but the question still makes her nauseous. She hesitates, gritting her teeth to brace herself for the reaction she knows is coming.

“It’ll be one year next week,” she mutters.

“A whole _ year!? _”

Ryder gapes at her. Part of him feels downright stupid for being so shocked. Maren and Elsa are close, he knows that, he _ sees _ that. It’s been a long time since Mare’s let anyone in the way she has with Elsa. He can’t say he didn’t have his suspicions, of course, but he’d resolved to pay them no mind. Ryder was certain he would be the first to know if anything developed. He and his sister don’t hide this kind of stuff—or at least—he thought they didn’t.

“Mare, you know you could’ve told me, right?”

“I couldn’t,” she says weakly, gnawing on her lip.

He waves the thought away. “Oh, don’t even start with that. You know you can tell me anything.”

“I know I can… but I _ couldn’t.” _

“You’re not making any sense.”

Of course she’s not. It doesn’t make any sense, not even to her. Just hours ago, everything had its own place, but now her world is muddled and messy and she can’t tell if the feelings lumped in her chest are hers or if they’re Elsa’s. Every thought is clouded by fog and tears blur her vision while she stumbles her way through it. The mist can’t go on forever. There has to be an end, somewhere, somehow.

Ryder doesn’t hate many things in this world, but watching Maren struggle against herself never fails to make his heart weep. No matter how many times he sees it, he’s always stunned by the gravity of each tear dripping down her face. They come in waves, and it’s been a long time since the tide has washed in, but he’s held her through so much at this point that consoling her feels like second nature. It takes a special breed of sadness to make his sister cry, and Ryder is usually the only one trusted enough to hold it. But he’s not sure how to hold her right now, because he’s not sure what he’s even holding. 

She’s keeping him in the dark, which—when it comes to her own pain—sounds _ exactly _like something his sister would do.

“Mare, what is this? What’s going on?” He scoots close and grips her shoulders. “Please, I need you to help me understand.”

Lost on how to respond, Honeymaren stiffens with her face scrunched tight. It’s hard to pinpoint how long all of this has been bubbling inside her. She tries to focus on the rain, desperate to find solace in the steady rhythm it beats against the stone, trying to let it sway her to a place where things make sense again. But deep down, she knows that’s not enough. These thoughts need to meet the outside air, and now that tears are involved, she knows Ryder won’t budge until that happens. Fighting this truth just isn’t worth the trouble in the end.

“She thinks it’s wrong.” 

It’s barely a whisper, but it’s all she can manage.

“Huh?”

“She thinks it’s wrong, Ryder,” Honeymaren repeats, urging her voice louder. “Us being together, Elsa thinks it means there’s something wrong with her.”

“What? Why?”

“Because…”

Her body heaves while she contemplates her response. There’s no turning back once she says it. She’ll have to explain it, just like Elsa had to do for her. Then Ryder will know what so much of the world thinks of him and he won’t be able to unhear it, just like she can’t. Confessing feels like its own kind of sin, but she doesn’t know what else to do. Honeymaren stares at her little brother for a long moment, then forces herself to do what she always does, which is smother him.

“Because we’re both women,” she finally answers.

Ryder bunches his face into a puzzled squint. “I’m sorry, I’m not following…”

_ And that's exactly how it should be, _ she thinks. But Honeymaren sucks in a deep breath, pushing on despite every nerve in her body screaming for her to stop. 

“What’s normal for us isn’t normal for everyone else,” she explains, voice low and stiff. “In most places, there are rules about who can be together. Women are only supposed to be with men. And people look down on anyone who breaks that rule.”

“Just women...?”

“No…” she resents the words as they leave her mouth, “it’s meant for men, too.”

“I still don’t understand. Women are together all the time. It’s been that way since... forever.”

“Not in Arendelle,” she shakes her head solemnly, “Maybe now, but not always. At some point, something or someone made Elsa feel like she needed to hide it. So, that’s what she’s been doing her whole life.”

The air stills and understanding finally clicks behind Ryder’s eyes. 

“That’s— wow that’s awful...” His voice falters and frame slouches, overcome by thought. “But she doesn’t have to do that anymore. Not here, at least.”

Honeymaren sighs. “I try to tell her that, but I don’t think it’s that simple… It’s like she’s been carrying this fear around for so long that it’s just as much a part of her as everything else.”

Ryder’s body droops further. His clear blue eyes fall to the dirt as he wonders aloud, “That’s gotta be so hard. I can’t even imagine... It must feel like—_ jeez _—I don’t even know...”

“It feels like drowning.” 

His lungs freeze at the sudden thought. When his gaze shoots up to his sister again, it looks as though she’s just as surprised by her words. Chestnut eyes wide and trembling, Honeymaren wraps around herself and folds inward, then sobs begin to wrack her body at full force. They’re the kind of sobs that rattle her entire throat on the way up, the kind that make crying feel more like vomiting.

It takes less than a heartbeat for Ryder to rise to his knees and lock his own arms around her. He holds her for a long while, muttering sweet reassurances into her ear, knowing that trying to do anything more would be fruitless. Pressing for answers will only magnify what she’s feeling. So, he waits for however long it takes, certain that those feelings will pass—

_ “As all things do,” _ he can hear his father say.

Honeymaren’s sobs eventually soften to whimpers in the bend of his neck. Though fragmented breaths continue to shake through her body, she relaxes ever so slightly against him. Once he’s certain the wave has passed, Ryder pulls back and brings a tender hand to her to her face. 

“Mare…” he says softly, catching her tears with his thumb. “Where are these coming from?”

“I— I can’t tell anymore,” she croaks. “It’s just— Elsa looks at that part of herself with so much shame. I think sometimes...” her eyes sink to the ground... “sometimes I wonder if she looks at me the same way.”

“No, no, no. Nope. Absolutely not.” Ryder shakes his head furiously. “C’mon, look at me.” Gentle hands grab both sides of her face and he leans in, forcing their eyes to meet. “Honeymaren, there is no reason for anyone to be ashamed of you. I don’t care who tries to make you believe that, it’ll never, _ ever _ be true. You are not a burden, do you hear me?”

Honeymaren’s lips quiver as her gaze falls back to the dirt. With hands still pressed to her cheeks, Ryder guides her head up, tightening his grasp so there’s nowhere else to face but him.

“I need you to say it, Mare.”

“I’m not a burden...” she mumbles.

“That’s right,” he affirms. “You’re strong and kind and bright and knowing you makes me a better person.” Before she can react, her brother’s arms are blanketing her once more, and for a fleeting moment, Honeymaren doesn’t feel so broken inside. 

“If Elsa doesn’t see that, you don’t need her,” he adds. “End of story.”

She weaves her arms around him and allows a small grin to form against his shoulder, but it can only reach so far. “I can’t lose her, Ryder. This is the happiest I’ve ever been.”

_ “Happy?” _He pulls back, brow taut. “You just said you were drowning.”

“I’m both...” she sighs. “You’ve only heard the bad stuff, but that’s just one small part of it—”

“It’s not small if it’s making you cry Mare—”

“Please, Ryde. Just listen...”

Her brother leans back and offers a quiet nod.

“I can’t tell you how much she means to me,” Honeymaren continues. “It’s like... remember that time we snuck off to play hide and seek when we were little?” 

“How could I forget? We got lost, I was terrified, and even _ you _ started to worry right before Father found us.” Ryder chuckles under his breath. “That was the first night I slept through in a long time. I’d never been so happy to be home.”

“That’s what every moment is like with Elsa,” she smiles, “Being with her is the easiest thing in the world.”

There’s a beat of silence as Ryder contemplates his response. “Even when you have to lie about who she is to you?” he asks, treading carefully. “Is that easy, too?”

His tone is still light and soft as a feather, but the words inside crush her. 

“I’m so sorry, Ryde,” she sniffles, tears flooding her eyes again. “I wanted to tell you so badly, I really, _ really _ did, but Elsa gets so scared and breaks me to see her like that.”

“No, Mare, that’s not what I meant. It’s okay, I get it,” he reassures, pulling her into another hug and rubbing circles along her back. “I’m not mad or hurt, I just hate that you felt like you had to hide this from me, and for so long...”

“Me, too,” she weeps. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”

“Well, talking is always a good place to start,” he reasons, tightening his grip. “I think you need to tell her everything you just told me.” 

He feels her head shake against him.

“That’s too much to put on her.”

“It’s too much to put on you too, Maren. You shouldn’t have to shoulder this alone. Elsa needs to be the one to decide what’s too much for her.”

A glint of fear flashes behind her eyes as her body goes rigid. She shakes her head frantically, prompting more tears to gush down her cheeks.

“What if she decides it is? I— I can’t do that, Ryde, not again...” she stammers through trembling lips.

“I know, I know,” he soothes, “but think about it, Mare. She’s still here, even after all that. I’ve been around you two, it’s not like I haven’t seen how much she cares. Elsa’s different. She wants to know things and it’s really not fair to keep blindsiding her. If you don’t wanna lose her, you have to stop letting things build like this. She won’t be able to help you if you never give her the chance.” 

“But—” 

“Let me finish, please,” he cuts her off, then pushes on, “Look, I get that it’s scary, and I know the past doesn’t help, but you can’t build a house until you lay the first stone, you know? You’re not gonna figure it out overnight, but you’ll _ never _ figure it out if you don’t talk. Just start there, okay?”

Fear still pooling in her eyes, Honeymaren gives a reluctant nod. Ryder pulls her in close.

“And no matter what happens, you know I’m not going anywhere. Promise.”

“Thanks, Ryde,” she whispers, trying not to dwell on his words for too long.

He draws back and flashes a heartfelt smile, letting his gaze linger as he studies her. Something has felt off since he first approached her earlier, but it’s only now that he pieces together why. Instead of his sister’s hair being neatly pulled into her usual long braid, it’s been thrown into a loose ponytail, now tangled and stringy from the downpour.

“So, this isn’t you, right?” he asks, head tilted as he gestures toward his hair. “Or maybe it is…?” he chuckles, “Seeing as I have no clue what’s been going on with you for the past year, apparently.”

“No, definitely not me,” she sighs. “Today hasn’t been a normal day.”

“Well, let me fix it, then,” he offers, motioning for her to turn around. “You’re not gonna feel like yourself if you don’t look like yourself.”

Her face lifts into a soft grin as she takes off her cap and maneuvers to face away. Ryder begins combing through her hair with his fingers, doing his best to be gentle and not tug too hard as he untangles it. Honeymaren closes her eyes and breathes in, allowing her body to relax. She usually braids it herself, but she has to admit, it feels nice to sit back and let someone else do it every now and then.

Even when Ryder is finished and his hands disappear, she keeps her eyes shut, wanting to soak in the respite for as long as she can. She doesn't get the chance, though, because her brother shakes her by the shoulders mere seconds after he’s done.

“Mare!” he blurts out. “Mare, look!”

When she opens her eyes and turns toward the entrance, she’s greeted by the start of a sunset with a thrilling surprise peeking through the trees. Excitement fizzing, they glance at each other, then spring to their feet and bolt outside, paying no mind to the rain soaking their semi-dry clothes once more. Once they reach a clearing, the sight overhead makes Honeymaren’s heart flutter. 

In the midst of her own fog, she forgot that rain does have one saving grace—the colors it leaves behind. 

Though it continues to pour and clouds still billow across the sky, they’ve passed just enough to let the sun beam its warmth onto the earth again. Light shimmers through the falling droplets and paints every surface a vibrant gold. And right there in the center, Honeymaren sees one of her favorite things in the world; streaks of every color sprouting up and arching over the horizon.

A rainbow.  
  
Another precious gem hidden beyond the mist. She can’t bring herself to look away whenever she sees one. They’re pure magic. Even Elsa thinks so, despite all the science floating around in her brain.

Maybe rain isn’t all bad. Honeymaren supposes it’s only the gloomy days she doesn’t take kindly to. Sun showers are a different matter entirely. They’re special. Cleansing. They fill her with hope that the rain and sun can exist in harmony. These moments feel less like a battle between the two and more like a really deep breath they take together. 

“I hope we see one during the festival,” Ryder muses as they watch.

“Me too,” she agrees, bumping his shoulder with hers. “It won’t look like that one, though.”

“You said the one you found is mostly white, right?”

“Mhmm, all the colors combined.”

“Wonder who taught you that...” he teases, peering through the corner of his eye.

“I’ll give you one guess,” she says without tearing her gaze from the sunset. A distinct smile spreads across her face, stretching as far as it can reach. It radiates a certain glow that Ryder hasn’t seen Maren wear in a long, _ long _ time. Probably since the mist was lifted.

“You’re pretty crazy about her, huh?” he asks.

She turns her head, lips curling into a smirk. “What gave it away? Was it the crying or the sulking in the rain?”

He pretends to think for a moment, then shrugs. “The kissing, oddly enough.”

“Shut up.” Honeymaren rolls her eyes and shoves his arm. Then, they burst into laughter—the kind that wears their stomachs sore and breathes life back into Honeymaren’s face.

With giggles bouncing through the air, she feels the world slowly start to make sense again. Turns out her father was right, she just needed some water and time, is all.

...And having Ryder as her brother didn’t hurt, either.

“I think I’m ready to go home,” she says once their laughter fades.

Ryder deflates with relief. “Probably not as ready as me.”

“Wanna bet?” she taunts with a sly grin.

“First one there gets all the salmon jerky in that basket,” he bargains without missing a beat, like it’s been on his mind this whole time. Knowing Ryder, it probably has.

“Deal!” The word barely reaches the air before Honemaren sprints off, leaving her disgruntled brother scrambling in her wake. Keeping an eye on him, she bides her time. Once he’s close to catching up, she slows her pace just enough to let him pass, but keeps her strides long and breathing labored so it doesn’t look too obvious.

Ryder gets there first, of course. If he caught on, he never shows it. Not even when she tells him he can have everything in the basket, not just the jerky. 

_* * *_

Honeymaren feels a twinge of, well, _ something _ when she steps through the door again. It’s almost unsettling how pristine the place looks. She would say it’s so clean it’s as if Elsa hadn’t even been there, but the truth is, the tidiness is the most glaring sign of her presence. Ryder and Honeymaren aren’t necessarily messy, but there’s bound to be a difference in what they consider clean versus what the former Queen of Arendelle considers clean.

There’s no trace of ice on any surface. Nothing was damaged by the frost, not even the door. Their basket of food is still sitting by the fire pit, with the flowers and chocolates now stacked neatly inside. She takes them out and hands the basket to her brother, then scans the hut for Elsa’s token box, but it’s nowhere to be found. 

All the pelts have been straightened out, and she spots the clothes Elsa had been wearing now folded intentionally on her designated side of the hut, meant for this exact moment, no doubt. Her heart leaps and sinks in unison. Elsa knows her better than she knows herself sometimes. With a sigh, she picks them up while Ryder gathers clothes and turns to the wall on his end. 

Once they’re sure the other is changed and dry, her brother turns around and gets a fire going. After hanging the kettle to heat, he pops a few blueberries into his mouth and holds out the bowl to his sister. 

“Here, take some.”

She scowls at him. “No! I literally just gave you those.”

“Yeah, and I wanna share them with you.”

“Stop. I don’t need it, Ryde,” she insists.

“Oh, yes you do,” he sings, wiggling the bowl in front of her. “You need all the strength you can get right now.”

“And why is that?” Feeling too tired to fight him, Honeymaren gives in and reaches for a handful, but somehow ends up with the entire bowl.

Ryder purses his lips and shakes his head. Oh, Maren… his smart, strong, stubborn, unbelievably stupid sister... He can already hear her voice starting to catch in her nose and throat.

“Because,” he smirks, “your body is about to _ hate _ you for what you just did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this dynamic turned out to be really fun for me, so I hope you enjoyed reading it! Fingers crossed it felt authentic. It’s hard to tell when we don’t know much about them.
> 
> The next chapter is one that I’ve been very excited to write since the beginning (and will probably be on the longer side—like this one). This pandemic has put more strain on my focus, but I hope to have another update soon. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and for the lovely comments! Hearing your reactions make my day. I truly appreciate everyone sticking with this story <3


	10. Sweet Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, pals. Sorry for the long gap since my last update. My ability to focus has dwindled significantly in the wake of everything in the world, but I’m hangin’ in there and hope you are too.
> 
> I’ve been keeping flashbacks separate up until this point, but this one ended up being sandwiched between two small scenes in the present. This chapter is much longer than I intended, so I’m sorry in advance for that. If your focus is like mine, feel free to treat each scene as its own chapter and space them out.

First, it was the gradual burn in her throat. Then, her nose clogged up as if on cue. Now, all of Honeymaren’s energy withers away by the minute. Admitting that her brother was right drags her face into a pout. She knows she can’t complain too much though, because Ryder’s foresight also means there’s a steaming cup of birch tea in her hands and a woven blanket draped over her by the time her symptoms arise. 

With his sister now settled in, Ryder picks the leftover reindeer jerky from the basket and throws it into a small pot of water. Honeymaren drowns in guilt as she watches, painfully aware that he’s using the food she just gave him to cater dinner to her needs. She scolds herself on the inside, knowing none of this would be necessary if she hadn’t been so stubborn earlier. But making life difficult for her brother is a childish habit she never quite grew out of. And given everything, Honeymaren is fairly certain she never will at this point. Try as she might, she always seems to find a way to complicate things for him. Every. Single. Time.

None of this ever leaves her head, though. Thinking it out loud will only prompt him to devote more attention to her, which is the absolute last thing she wants. Gnawing on her lip, she hushes the thoughts before they can spiral any further and forces herself to concentrate on the crunches cutting through the air. Ryder chops some potatoes, green onions, and dried mushrooms and adds them to the pot, along with an assortment of herbs and spices they have lying around. Honeymaren sips her tea and watches quietly as he does. Once the flavors have had time to steep, Ryder scoops a portion of soup into the now-empty blueberry bowl for his sister and resolves to eat his meal straight out of the pot. 

Honeymaren hums as the warmth soothes her throat and the savory notes mingle on her tongue. If there’s one thing she’ll readily admit, it’s that Ryder is an excellent cook. And she’s not too bad herself; it’s a skill they both picked up from watching their father over the years. Elsa loves her cooking, but Honeymaren will always insist that Ryder’s is best. Their father used to say that love is what makes good food great, and her brother is undoubtedly the one with an aptitude for that. No one else could make hot vegetable water taste this good.

The two eat by the flames until their bellies are full and their bodies as warm and dry as possible. Once they’re both done, Ryder gathers all the dirty dishes and stacks them along the wall. Then, he shakes the contents from his travel pack and scatters various pieces of wood on the ground in front of him. 

“I found some good branches while we were harvesting today and managed to keep everything dry.” He wipes off his knife, then looks at his sister. “I’m going to work on some flutes for the festival, but you need to rest.”

“No, I want to help,” she protests, stubbornly reaching for her own knife. Anticipating this, Ryder yanks it away before she can unsheath it and guards the tool in his lap.

“Do you really think I’m going to let you touch what everyone’s gonna put their mouths on soon? There’s no way I’m letting you get all of us _ and _all of Arendelle sick in one night,” he scolds, swatting her away. “You’re the reason this festival is even happening in the first place, and you can’t be there if you’re sick, so... stop breathing around me and go pass out.”

Honeymaren relents with a pout and disgruntled sigh, followed by a sneeze that only fuels her frustration.

Her little brother is right. _ Again. _

Isn’t she supposed to be the wise older sibling? Why is _ he _ the one taking care of _ her _ all the time?

Well... she knows why, but she tries to evade those memories at all costs.

Swallowing what little is left of her pride, she slogs over to her side of the hut, punctuating the movement with a bitter groan. Ryder ignores it and begins whittling away at the first branch, but happens to catch sight of his sister glancing at the door as she passes.

“Don’t worry, it’s locked,” he reassures, then playfully waves the branch toward the entrance, deepening his voice in jest. “And if something else gets in, I’ll soothe it into a trance with a beautiful melody.”

Honeymaren breathes a laugh. “Oh, you mean it was that easy all along?”

“Nothing stands a chance against the impenetrable power of song!” he jokes, feigning a serious look until it becomes a real one. “But I mean it, Mare, nothing's getting in.”

Pulling the blanket tight around her frame, she nods, timid lips pressed into a half-smile. Honeymaren hates needing the reminder, despises that a single fear eclipses so many of her thoughts, but since it does, she’s thankful to have a brother like Ryder—someone who can make her feel safe and light and even spark some laughter along the way.

“Love you, Ryde,” she says softly, lowering herself to the ground.

“Love you too, Mare,” he echoes. “Sleep tight.” He brings his fingers to his mouth and blows a kiss in her direction, watching her catch it with a warm grin as her head comes to rest on the furs. Once his sister is nice and cozied up under the blanket, Ryder shifts his focus back to the branch in his hands and resumes carving. 

Honeymaren allows her eyes to close and listens to the intermittent pattern of his knife scraping into the bark. As she listens, her body is finally overcome by the sickness that’s been brewing for hours. Her muscles wilt into the pelts beneath her as a raging fever spreads under her skin. She turns onto her side and curls up as far as her body will go, seeking any shred of comfort she can find.

Rest doesn’t come easily, though. Worry continues to simmer in her chest and she cracks her eyes open, stealing another glance at the door.

_ Enough, _she tells herself.

Still, her gaze stays fixed on the entrance, eyelids growing heavier with each blink until they can no longer fight the exhaustion. When they close again, her mind begins to wander. Each thought, no matter how distant, somehow traces back to Elsa, and she finds herself aching in her absence more than usual. Considering her already low threshold, she’s missing her quite fiercely tonight.

It all feels so far away at this point, as though years have somehow gone by in the span of a single day. She tries to mute the mental image of Elsa curled up on this very ground, but the disheartening sight keeps creeping back in. Despite everything, Honeymaren wants nothing more than to wrap her arms around Elsa and tell her she’s okay. To kiss her until every sharp word aimed toward herself dies on her tongue. To hold her until both of their worlds don’t feel so shattered by such a puny flash of time. But since she can’t, Honeymaren inwardly vows to fix things tomorrow and wishes Elsa sweet dreams for now.

The latter is something she always does, regardless of whether or not Elsa is actually with her, but she makes a point to truly mean it tonight. Since the day Elsa first stepped into the forest for good, Honeymaren has done everything in her power to ensure she gets the rest she needs. Though she’s not quite sure what made her care so much in the beginning, it’s been a nagging desire and relentless pursuit ever since. No amount of tension between them could ever stop her from wishing this much. 

Because Elsa deserves sweet dreams, no matter what.

_* * *_

_“You’ll write when you get home so I know you made it?” _

_ Home. The word shakes Elsa’s throat on the way up and prompts her to tighten her grip. Her sister nods weakly in the bend of her neck. _

_ “And you’ll write tomorrow to let me know how your first night went?” Anna asks in that same shaky voice. _

_ “Right,” Elsa affirms. Dread is already bubbling inside her at the mere thought of watching the sun set from Ahtohallan. She and Anna have spent nights apart here and there since their reunion, but those nights always had an expiration date. If all goes well now, there won’t be an end to this. _

_ She won’t wake up in her bed and enjoy breakfast with her beloved little family. She won’t hear music echo through the halls while Olaf tries to teach himself whatever new instrument has caught his eye. She won’t visit Kristoff seeking solace in the stables or surprise Sven with a handful of carrots. And she won’t be able to spend precious time with her younger sister; lost time that she so desperately wants to make up for. _

_ “I’m going to miss you so much...” Elsa whimpers as tears stream down her cheeks. _

_ “I’ll miss you more,” Anna sniffles. _

_ Every second of the past few weeks has been spent preparing for this moment, but none of that time seems to have made any difference. Neither of them could ever be ready for a proper goodbye. Maybe they thought they were when looking at a distance, but these things feel so, _ so _ different from the inside. _

_ A knot has been twisting in Elsa’s gut since watching the only home she’s ever known be reduced to a speck of dust on the horizon. Arendelle is behind her now, left in the more than capable hands of her sister, and she feels absolutely no shred of doubt that abdicating the throne was the right decision for them both. _

_ “You’re going to be such a good queen,” Elsa whispers. “You already are.” _

_ Anna shrugs against her. “I only learned from the best.” _

_ “And who do you think I learned it from?” Elsa croons, leaning back to brush loose strands of vibrant red hair behind her ears. “This is you, Anna. This was always meant for you.” _

_ Her sister’s freckled face perks into a grin. “And this was always meant for you,” Anna whispers back. Softened blue eyes drift from the open field beyond the creek toward the dense sea of trees next to them. “You make sense here,” she adds. _

_ Gratitude spreads through Elsa’s chest, though she’s not sure if “here” means the forest or being up north in general. When they began working out the details of her move, Anna was... less than thrilled by her decision to reside in Ahtohallan. She protested with all of her might, insisting that Elsa should live amongst others to help keep her grounded, but Elsa stood firm in the choice she’d made. She knows she’s built for quiet and alone, even if she can’t quite convince her bubbly sister of the same. _

_ However she meant it, Anna’s willingness to let her live on her own terms comes as a great relief. _

_ Weaving her arms around her sister once more, Elsa tries to shove her swelling dread aside so she can savor this final moment. The two stand in a comfortable silence, accompanied by the welcoming hums and gentle mumbles of the forest. All time is lost inside their embrace. Elsa’s not sure how long it’s been when Anna finally speaks up. _

_ “We have to let go at some point, you know.” _

_ “I know,” Elsa sighs, tightening her grasp, “but I want to hold my sister for just a little bit longer.” _

_ Anna chuckles softly into her shoulder. “You read my mind, sis.” _

_ When they were young, both would’ve given anything to have their sister back at all. Being afforded three treasured years together always felt like a far-flung dream as they were living it. Now, it feels like a crumb. Visits will come in plenty, of course, but the life they’ve built together will no longer exist, not really. A new one will be built in its place—a bridge between Arendelle and the Northuldra. Anna will settle on her end as queen with Kristoff at her side, and Elsa will stand across as the fifth spirit of the forest. It’s a good and crucial change, but that doesn’t make it sting any less. _

_ They wring out every last tear in the safety of each other's arms. Though everything in her longs to stay, Elsa eventually forces her arms open and hesitant feet to step back. As she does, sour memories flood her mind. Every closed door. Every neglected knock. Every hasty retreat. In a single blink, she is swimming in a lifetime of regret—or drowning, rather. _

_ Remorse blurs her vision while she stares into her sister’s loving eyes for what feels like the last time ever. Anna. Her baby sister. An abiding soul who spent her entire life waiting for her to open the door. And now that Elsa has finally let her in, she finds herself bounding out. Weeks ago, everything about this decision felt so inexplicably right, but now Elsa’s convinced she’s never been more wrong. _

_ “We’ll see each other soon,” Anna says, as if she’s heard every unspoken word. “Hot chocolate and charades next Friday, right?” _

_ Elsa nods reflexively and thrusts her sadness aside. The time for that is over—if her sister isn’t crying anymore, neither should she. _

_ “Right,” she gulps. _

_ “I’m gonna be okay,” Anna reassures, “and so are you. Things will feel different once you’re settled. It’ll get easier. Just hang in there, Elsa.” _

_ Her younger sister’s wisdom evokes a faint smile. Elsa’s not sure how she does it, but the sincerity in Anna’s voice always has a way of soothing even the most bitter thoughts storming her mind. It’s a comfort she often feels undeserving of, given their distant and jagged history. Nevertheless, Anna offers it over and over and somehow manages to make her feel a smidge more deserving each time. _

_ Elsa fills her lungs with crisp December air, then leans to press a gentle kiss to her cheek. “If you need anything—and I mean _ anything _ —I can be there in no time, okay?” _

_ “You too,” Anna returns the gesture and joins their hands, “I mean— we won’t get there quite as fast as you and Nokk, but we _ will _ be there, no matter what. And you know you can stop by whenever, I don’t care what hour it is.” _

_ “Please don’t forget to write today...” _

_ “Ummm, have you _ met _ me...?” Anna jokes with a sunny laugh. “You know I’d never forget. It’ll be the first thing I do once we’re back, promise.” _

_ A heavy lump latches in Elsa’s throat, knowing now really is the last time she’s going to be held by those caring blue eyes in the way she’s used to. _

_ “Goodbye, Elsa,” Anna says softly. “I love you.” _

_ Elsa releases a trembling breath. “I love you too, Anna.” _

_ With one final, heartfelt squeeze, Anna lets go and slowly makes her way to Kristoff, Olaf, and Sven waiting patiently at the wagon. Her head turns back every so often, as if to make sure Elsa is still there. And she is, of course, albeit standing visibly stiff as she watches Anna climb to the front and settle beside her fiancé. _

_ “Alright, buddy,” she hears Kristoff’s muffled voice as he pats Sven, “I think we’re ready.” _

_ The reindeer flashes a long, wistful glance at Elsa before steadily hauling them away. Each of them wave farewell and call out their final goodbyes, and Elsa waves back on instinct until Olaf’s bright grin and bubbly voice catches her attention. Their gazes lock and the snowman gulps in a dramatic breath, then blows a big kiss in her direction. Without missing a beat, she catches it and clutches it to her chest like a precious jewel. _

_ His laughter fades into the distance, along with the rest of her family. Now that they’re out of sight, Elsa deflates, letting her tears flow and hands fall numbly at her sides. _

_ “You okay?” a gentle voice asks from behind, almost startling her. _

_ In the midst of her last goodbye, Elsa had forgotten that Honeymaren was lingering under a small willow in the distance. She’d greeted them upon their arrival, but quietly ambled away to give them space for their farewells. It struck Elsa as curious; she figured she’d be greeted by Yelena, the leader of the Northuldra. Why Honeymaren is here instead is a mystery, but she also doesn’t mind it. For the most part, she’s just grateful there isn’t a whole audience. _

_ “I’m okay.” Elsa nods vacantly. _

_ Honeymaren shifts awkwardly in place. “With all due respect... that was the _ least _ convincing lie I’ve heard in my life.” _

_ “Fine. I’m not okay,” she admits, wiping the sorrow from her face. “I only just got my sister back and now we’re apart again.” _

_ Elsa clings to herself as if it’s all she has left. The pitiful sight makes Honeymaren’s heart ache. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” she says softly. _

_ “Do what?” _

_ “Stay.” _

_ Elsa tries to mask the hurt in her voice. “I thought I belonged up here...?” _

_ “Well, I think you do, of course... but I’m not you,” Honeymaren says casually. “So, it’s not really for me to decide, is it?” _

_ “Well, I’m me and I’ve already decided I’m staying,” Elsa insists with a definitive breath. And it’s true, turning back isn’t an option as far as she’s concerned. _

_ Honeymaren flashes a relieved smile. “In that case, we have a surprise for you.” _

_ “You do?” _

_ “Yup! A small welcome gift of sorts. We have to go to my home to get it though.” _

_ Elsa sways as if to step forward, but finds herself reluctant to move at all. “Thank you, that’s very kind, but—um—can we maybe wait until it doesn’t look like I’ve been crying...?” she asks awkwardly. _

_ “Of course we can. Here, go splash some water on your face,” Honeymaren offers, pointing to the nearby creek. “Take all the time you need.” _

_ Grateful for the understanding, Elsa plods over and lets her skin soak in the refreshing water. A chilled breeze sweeps through her hair as she does, and she recognizes the presence immediately. _

_ “Hi, Gale,” she sings. _

_ Gale responds with another lively gust. The playful greeting from the wind spirit paints her sodden face with a smile. Elsa can’t quite explain how, but she knows this is the spirit’s way of welcoming her. It’s a comfort she didn’t realize she needed: to know that even if no one else was around, she still wouldn’t be alone. _

_ “Thank you,” she chuckles as she rises, bearing a renewed sense of peace. She turns to find that Honeymaren is no longer standing in their spot, but has found her place under the willow once more. Seated beside her on the ground are the only two bags Elsa had packed, which she must’ve graciously lugged over. _

_ The view of Honeymaren relaxing so contently on the frozen earth comes as a surprise. Witnessing someone aside from herself sit under a barren tree while winter picks up speed isn’t a particularly usual sight. Then again, Elsa guesses Arendelle and the Northuldra must have vastly different ideas of usual. _

_ Frosted remnants of grass crunch beneath Elsa’s feet as she nears and lowers herself on the other side of her belongings. Honeymaren watches out of the corner of her vision and can’t help but beam on the inside. She honestly hadn’t expected Elsa to come back before she was ready to leave—hadn’t expected her to sit down at all. _

_ Elsa wrings her hands awkwardly while they sit in an oddly pleasant silence. It’s akin to the one she and Anna share, though something deep in her chest tells her this is different. She tries not to dwell on that thought for too long, though. _

_ As her mind traces over the morning’s goodbyes, Elsa remembers a certain detail that piqued her interest earlier. She’d said goodbye to Kristoff, Sven, and Olaf first, but glanced over to find that Anna had slipped away and was speaking to Honeymaren under the willow. About what... Elsa doesn’t know. She tried to probe Anna about it once she returned, but her sister simply said they were catching up. _

_ It was a lie and they both knew it. Anna is far from skilled at hiding; that gift is reserved entirely for Elsa. But she decided not to press too much, considering the circumstances. With those dreaded goodbyes behind her, however, there’s enough room for curiosity to nag her thoughts. _

_ “So... can I ask what you and Anna talked about?” _

_ “We were just catching up,” Honeymaren says far too quickly and far too casually. _

_ Elsa laughs under her breath. “And you thought I was bad at lying.” _

_ The comfortable air stiffens between them when Honeymaren only glances at her. _

_ “If you don’t tell me, I’ll probably just find out from someone else,” Elsa adds, then cringes internally. She was aiming for casual, but it came out more like a threat. _

_ Knowing she’s right, Honeymaren caves with a reluctant sigh. “She told me she wasn’t fond of you living by yourself and wanted me to look out for you. I told her I would, partly because she asked and… partly because Yelena already tasked me with doing the same.” _

_ “So, you’re my appointed babysitter. Got it,” Elsa observes flatly, only half-joking as she looks down and gnaws on her lip. _

_ “I wouldn’t say it like that...” Honeymaren counters. _

_ “How would you say it, then?” _

_ “I would say that having a friend makes big changes feel a little less scary.” _

_ “A friend...?” _

_ “Yes, Elsa, a friend,” Honeymaren giggles like she can’t believe she has to say it. “And I’d still be one if neither of them had asked, for the record.” _

_ “Oh.” _

_ “Please, do try to calm your excitement,” she teases, shaking her head. _

_ “Ugh, no, I didn’t...” Elsa buries a flushed face in her hands. “I just mean... I haven’t had many friends over the years so... even that is a change.” _

_ Honeymaren’s expression softens. “A good change, I hope?” _

_ “A good one, definitely.” Elsa returns a warm smile, then guilt begins prickling under her skin. “I’m sorry if I’ve been acting cold today...” she adds after a moment. “Everything is just—” _

_ “Different?” Honeymaren guesses. “New?” _

_ “Yeah... exactly.” _

_ “I get that,” she assures, swinging her arms behind her head and relaxing against the bark. “The forest was my only world before you showed up, so everything is new to me too.” _

_ Elsa follows her earthy eyes up to the clear sky and smiles. She hadn’t thought about it that way before. Honeymaren is right, new and different don’t feel quite as daunting with someone by her side. She said she’d be friends with Elsa regardless of Anna and Yelena’s requests. Maybe this isn’t all for her, maybe Honeymaren could use a friend too. _

_ Nerves flutter in Elsa’s stomach as she contemplates her response. “Well... perhaps we can figure things out together, then.” _

_ Honeymaren smirks. “Together sounds nice.” _

_ Attempting to hide the blush crossing her face, Elsa looks away with a shy grin. “Thanks for waiting with me, Honeymaren.” _

_ “Of course! That’s what friends do, isn’t it?” She beams. “And you’re welcome to call me Maren, by the way.” _

_ Elsa tilts her head and looks up. “Really?” _

_ “You sound surprised.” _

_ “I kind of am... You just have such a lovely name,” Elsa explains. “I don’t know if another Honeymaren even exists; you might be the only one. Not many people get to say that.” _

_ “Thanks. Yeah, don’t get me wrong, I _ love _ my name but... I know it can be a mouthful sometimes.” _

_ “So why Maren, then?” _

_ “That’s what Ryder calls me,” she shrugs, “Mare was his first word, so it just kind of stuck.” _

_ Elsa practically melts at the thought. “That is... incredibly sweet.” _

_ “Yeah,” Honeymaren grins, “I’m not big on nicknames, but he lucked out by looking so disgustingly cute the first time he said it.” Her sarcastic eye roll earns a laugh. “No one else gets to call me Maren. Well— except you, if you’d like.” _

_ Elsa’s not sure what makes her worthy of such a coveted privilege, but something tells her she’d be an absolute fool to turn it down. “Maren it is, then.” _

_ The sound of her name is pure silk as Maren holds Elsa’s gaze for a long moment. She has to admit, her friend looks pretty cute when she says it too. It’s a different kind, of course, but spirits... she is cute. _

_ “Your face looks good now,” Maren observes, perhaps too candidly. “I mean— I also thought it looked good before but... you don’t look like you’ve been crying anymore.” _

_ “That’s certainly a relief to hear,” Elsa chuckles in return. “In that case, I’m ready whenever you are.” _

_ They rise from the ground and Elsa situates one of the bags in her arms, then reaches for the other, only to find that Maren picked it up and is now carrying it. A twinge of guilt shoots through Elsa at the realization. Had she known, she definitely would’ve picked up the heavier bag first... _

_ Maren doesn’t seem to mind, though. She steps out from under the willow with ease and Elsa resolves to quietly follow her lead. _

_ Together they weave through a dense maze of brush and trees until finally arriving at the outskirts of the village. It’s just now reaching midday and the sun still hangs high and bright above them. They stroll side by side, passing by almost identical large huts scattered around the open area. Though winter’s bite is growing sharp, most of the dwellings seem to have their doors swung wide open—to let light in, Elsa figures. _

_ Much to her surprise, Maren leads them to a smaller hut tucked away at a respectable distance from the others. It’s a bit clumsier in presentation, looking more like an afterthought than a carefully considered plan. Some of the weathered wood varies in shade, appearing to be an amalgam of different scraps pieced together. But none of these details translate as shortcomings. Elsa finds that this home somehow feels friendlier than the others. The rugged edges seem to smile at her, welcome her in with that same whimsical air Gale displayed earlier. It’s humble. Approachable. Safe. _

_ The door squeaks open. Sucking in a deep breath, Maren gestures for Elsa to enter first, then trails cautiously behind her. The pelts blanketing the ground inside look so soft, Elsa can practically feel them through her shoes as she steps in. She’s far from cold or tired, but part of her wants to wrap herself up in their warmth and doze off right now. _

_ Her interest in the furs affords Maren enough time to shut the door, flip down the lock, and subtly push on it a few times. It takes a moment for Elsa’s eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness. Luckily, the top of the hut is open to funnel smoke out, which allows just enough light to spill in and let her continue observing the interior. _

_ “Let me get some more light in here,” Maren mutters as she turns away from the entrance. Elsa’s brow quirks in confusion as she watches her drift toward the fire pit. Neither of them seem to be particularly cold, so she’s not sure why a fire is necessary. If she needs more light, she could just as easily leave the door open like everyone else. _

_ But Elsa holds her tongue and Maren‘s shy voice rouses her. _

_ “So... this is my home.” _

_ “It’s so cozy,” Elsa observes. _

_ Maren chuckles awkwardly. “It’s, uh, no castle... that’s for sure...” _

_ “No, it isn’t.” Elsa smiles, wonder glistening in her gaze. “It’s perfect.” _

_ Maren fights a grin, but her voice grows small. “Thanks, it’s the first one Ryder and I ever built. Our other place is much nicer, though. We actually knew what we were doing by the spring migration.” _

_ “You and Ryder built this?” _

_ “Mhmm,” she says blankly. “Some of Yelena’s family helped us out, though. We can only take credit for the messy parts.” _

_ “Do they live here with you, then?” _

_ Maren’s movements still. “No… we used to live with them, but Ryder and I eventually moved out.” _

_ “How come?” The question flies from Elsa’s mouth before she can stop it. A stretch of silence takes over as Maren weighs her answer, brown eyes lost ahead of her. _

_ “We—um—” she swallows hard, “we moved after our father passed.” _

_ Elsa sits with the answer, half-expecting Maren to continue, though she’s not sure what makes her think she would be privy to such intimate knowledge. She might as well be a stranger right now. She should’ve just stopped while she was ahead. _

_ “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to...” her voice trails off, hindered by regret as her frenzied thoughts race for a response. There are many things she _ could _ say, but those words feel hollow and all too familiar. Elsa knows not much can soothe a heart splintered by loss, so that in itself becomes her offering. _

_ “I know how hard that is,” she whispers. _

_ “It’s okay,” Honeymaren mumbles with a forgiving shake of her head. Nimble fingers resume trying to coax an ember from the friction. Elsa watches quietly as her friend breathes the flames to life, keeping her own lips sealed tight to prevent another misstep. _

_ “Alright, you ready for your gift?” Maren asks once the logs are burning. It’s a sharp transition, but her need for the subject to change is stronger than her desire to care. She’s relieved when Elsa returns a friendly nod, seeming to understand. _

_ Carrying on as if nothing had happened, Maren claps the dirt off her hands, then wipes them on her pants for good measure. “Okay, close your eyes!” she says as she rises, renewed excitement buzzing in her voice. _

_ Elsa does as she asks, then listens to her friend’s movements paired the rustle of fabric. _

_ “You can open them now!” Maren chirps once she’s returned with the present held out. The hut comes back into view and Elsa’s face sparks in delight when she spots the bundle of pelts in her arms. _

_ “These are for me?” she asks, eyes fluttering in disbelief. _

_ “Mhmm! It’s from all of us,” Maren explains. “We’re not sure how cold you get, but these will keep you warm if you ever need it.” _

_ “It’s like you read my mind.” Elsa beams. “Thank you so, so much.” _

_ “You’re more than welcome.” Maren grins as she hands it over, watching pale fingers trace over the soft fur, relieved that the gift was well-received. “I actually made you something to go with it...” she adds after a long moment. _

_ “Really?” _

_ “Mhmm. Close your eyes again and hold your arms out, palms up.” _

_ Setting the furs beside her feet, Elsa does as she’s asked once again, insatiably curious about what’s to come. Before she knows it, the distinct scent of leather fills the air as Maren rests the gift in her palms. _

_ “Alright... ready when you are,” she says, sounding almost nervous. _

_ A bemused look crosses Elsa’s face when she opens her eyes and sees a large... well, she _ thinks _ it’s a pillow, but her fear of being wrong stops her from guessing aloud. Maren chuckles, sensing her confusion. _

_ “You’re used to sleeping in a bed, right?” she asks. _

_ Elsa nods reluctantly. _

_ “Well, that’s what I figured, so I made you some cushions to sleep on. There are two more in that bag,” she explains, pointing to a sack against the wall. “I know it’s not what you’re used to, but I thought it might be more comfortable than solid ice.” _

_ “That’s— wow— thank you, Maren,” Elsa gushes, deeply moved by the unexpected gesture. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me…” _

_ The heartfelt curve of her lips sends Maren’s pulse into a frenzy. “Of course,” she says timidly. “You’ll have to let me know how they work out. They’re stuffed with a mixture of brush, dried leaves, and fur. I can always add more if there’s not enough, or take some out if there’s too much.” _

_ “I’m sure it will be perfect,” Elsa assures. She gingerly runs her hands over the rough brown leather, overwhelmed by her friend’s foresight and thoughtfulness. _

_ “So, are you planning on going to Ahtohallan right away?” Maren asks casually. “Or would you like to stay for a while?” _

_ Icy blue eyes fall to the ground and Elsa’s nails tighten around the cushion. “I don’t know,” she mumbles. “I don’t have much of a plan, to be honest. I was hoping I’d know what to do when I got here. I thought maybe it was something I would just _ feel. _ But I don’t even know what I’m feeling right now…” Though she tries to fight it, tears flood her vision and threaten to spill over. _

_ “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Maren cautiously leans down to meet her gaze. “What can I do?” _

_ Elsa only responds with a sniffle and shrug as her lips quiver, shaken by uncertainty. _

_ “Would a hug help?” she asks gently. _

_ “That’s not usually my thing...” Elsa murmurs. Her eyes wrench shut and she sounds almost queasy as she forces the next words up, “...but I think I might need to make an exception right now.” _

_ “Come here,” Maren croons, instantly blanketing herself around her trembling frame. Elsa sinks into her grasp and lets her tears flow, unable to mask her rising heartache any longer. She’s not sure how, but Maren’s arms feel so inexplicably _ safe. _ Burying her head in her friend’s shoulder, Elsa inhales the savory blend of leather, sweat, and charred wood soaked into her skin. She takes in another deep breath between her whimpers, wanting to drink in the comforting scent for as long as she possibly can. This—for some reason—only amplifies her tears. _

_ “I’m sorry,” Elsa weeps. “I’m not usually like this...“ _

_ Maren’s tentative hands run reassuring circles along her back. “You don’t have to explain yourself. There’s nothing to be sorry for,” she assures. “I can’t even imagine what I would do if I had to say goodbye to Ryder. I’d be a mess…” Her own voice cracks at the thought and she collects herself before pressing on, “Listen, no one expects you to know what to do. We’re just as new to having a fifth spirit as you are to being one, but we’ll figure it out together, right?” _

_ When Elsa gives a frail nod against her, Maren pulls back, keeping a strong grasp on her shoulders. “Why don’t you stay with us tonight?” she suggests. “That way you won’t have to be alone. You can go to Ahtohallan tomorrow when you’re feeling more comfortable, and we’ll go from there, okay?” _

_ “No, I’m alright, really. I wouldn’t want to intrude—” _

_ “You’re not intruding if I just invited you, silly. Besides, Ryder _ loves _ company. We’ll be more than happy to have you.” _

_ “Are you sure…?” Elsa asks, uncomfortably twisting her hands. _

_“I’m certain, Elsa. We want you here as long as you want to be here.” Maren glances at her hands, then holds her timid eyes for a long moment. “And if you ever need another one of these…” She pulls Elsa in and holds her tight. “I’ve got you.”_  
_  
_ _Somehow, Elsa doesn’t doubt that for a second inside her arms. Though she has absolutely no intention to make this a habit, she lets herself melt into the embrace, just for now. _

_ “Thank you, Maren,” she whispers, finally hugging her back, “for everything.” _

* * *

“Any luck?” Honeymaren asks as she closes the door, instinctively flipping the lock down and testing it for good measure.

“Still no sign.” Her brother’s voice is stained by sadness as he kicks off his boots and throws his pack on the ground. He looks up just in time to see Honeymaren’s face and shoulders sink. “I’m really sorry, Mare...”

She begins pacing nervously near the entrance, arms crossed tight and head bowed in thought.

“This is a long time, right? I’m not crazy for thinking this is a long time?”

“I mean... she’s definitely never just disappeared like this,” he answers, face scrunched in concern as he wrings the back of his neck.

Honeymaren’s movements pause and she lets out a heavy sigh. 

Three days. 

It’s been three whole days since she’s heard Elsa’s voice or seen her face or breathed in the sweet notes of lavender wafting from her hair. Granted, the latter would’ve been impossible had Elsa returned earlier, but she’s been gone long enough now for Honeymaren to have bounced back. The sickness is well on its way out, with only a faint scratch in her voice lingering behind.

All her replenished energy is now reserved for worrying, which has been her constant state of being since the first day passed completely void of Elsa’s presence. Since then, Honeymaren’s had nothing to do except lie around and let guilt rot in her gut. It’s eating her alive not knowing where she is or if she’s okay, but she reminds herself she gave up that right when she stormed out, abandoning Elsa at her most vulnerable. Of all the terrible things to do to a person, she knows she chose the most crushing one. And she’s certain she’ll never forgive herself for it.

“I still think we should send a message to Anna.” Ryder suggests, pulling her from her thoughts.

“We absolutely should _ not _send a message to Anna unless we have a good reason,” Honeymaren insists. “She still doesn’t know about us and you know how she is... she’ll be banging on our door five seconds after she gets the letter.”

“Yeah, because she’s her sister, Maren.”

“I know, Ryde, believe me— I know.”

“It's been three days, Mare,” he reminds her. “Elsa might be with her. If we know that, at least we’ll know she’s safe...”

“She also might not be—and if Elsa turns out to be okay, I can _ promise _ you she won’t be once she finds out we got Anna involved. It’ll be like the other day all over again, maybe even worse.”

At a loss, Ryder resolves to trust his sister’s reasoning. “What else are we supposed to do, then?”

Reluctant lips catch between her teeth. “I think maybe I should try going to Ahtohallan...” she answers, making a brittle attempt to sound confident for his sake.

“Wait, what? Will Nokk even let you without her around?”

Honeymaren shrugs with a frown. “I have no idea? Probably not, but it’s worth a try.”

Her brother gives a definitive shake of his head and throws his arms out. “No, Maren. The Dark Sea is way too dangerous.”

“It won’t be if he lets me on,” she counters. And to Ryder’s frustration, she makes a good point. 

“I really don’t like the sound of this…”

Her jaw clenches. “I’ve never seen Elsa as bad as she was the other day and I just… left her. Me—Ryder—I _ left _ her. I don’t care what I was feeling, that was wrong and we both know what that can do to someone...” Her voice fades with a shiver. She screws her eyes shut, collects herself in a deep breath, then continues, “Look, I don’t expect you to love the idea, but I need you to let me try.” 

“What if she’s not even there?”

“Then I might be able to see what she’s up to and where she is. If I don’t find her or she doesn’t turn up tomorrow, I promise we’ll tell Anna. But I need to see her, Ryde. I’m so worried... I need to know that she’s okay. _ Please. _ You know you’d do the same if it were me.”

She resents herself for guilt-tripping him, but she’s too blinded by her own dread to stop. All the possibilities swarm her mind like a dense flock of starlings. She knows all too well how this breed of guilt warps Elsa’s thoughts. That blunder with the door will torment her until she’s picked away at every last piece herself. More than anything, Honeymaren just needs to know that she hasn’t done anything stupid.

Ryder holds her gaze intently, watching each grim thought flicker behind her eyes, and knows without a shred of doubt that she’s right. He’d face the Dark Sea for Maren in a heartbeat if he needed to. With a softened face, he wrings out a heavy breath and rises to wrap his arms around his sister.

“Okay but..._ please _ be careful, Mare,” he whispers, holding her tight. “I need you to come home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any guesses where Elsa might be and what she’s up to? Arendelle? Ahtohallan? Something else? I’d love to hear ‘em.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! This chapter wasn’t part of my outline, but I decided to roll with it because I liked exploring how Elsa would cope with being separated from Anna. The actual chapter that I’ve really been looking forward to will now be the next one. 
> 
> Also, would you believe me if I told you I omitted around 2k words from this chapter? I cut the beginning of the flashback where Elsa says goodbye to Kristoff, Olaf, and Sven, but I loved those sweet little moments so I’m considering maybe posting it as a one-shot. If you’re interested in reading that scene, let me know.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading and for all the kind words so far. I cannot stress my appreciation enough. They really help keep me going when I write. I hope to have another update for you soon. Take care of yourselves and stay safe <3


	11. What's This I Hear?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends. I’m so sorry for the long gap between this and my last update. There’s more about why in the end note. That being said, we’re finally reaching one of the points in the story that I’ve been very excited to write. 
> 
> I ended up splitting this chapter into two, so much of the next one is already drafted. This one is a Long Journey so please get comfy and enjoy some quality time with Elsa.

Strangled gasps echo through an iridescent cavern as Elsa shoots up from a restless sleep. Disoriented by the heartbeat throbbing in her skull, her startled blue eyes flit around the space as she tries to discern her surroundings. Once she recognizes the ancient glacier, panicked tears dampen the magenta scarf draped over her lap. She trails shaky fingers over the fabric and absentmindedly strokes the fringe, trying to steady the violent rise and fall of her chest. 

This torment is all Elsa’s known since stepping into Ahtohallan . . . how long ago. . . ? She’s fairly certain it’s been less than a week, but time is easily lost down here, hidden away in the glacier’s depths where natural sunlight is merely a footprint. Her skin hasn’t met the open air since Nokk carried her wilted body across the Dark Sea several days ago. The only light she’s seen since then is the cool glow of turquoise that the river emits on its own. In theory, the soft ambiance should help calm her, but Elsa hasn’t been so lucky since her return.

Sleeping was an honest effort at first, fueled by utter exhaustion and a desperate need for the world to evaporate. But when her body jolted awake on the first night, she instantly surrendered to the nightmare she knew would return. And it did, with a vengeance.

Jagged ice. 

White hair. 

Frigid tears. 

Over and over and over again.

It’s been the same rhythm ever since. She abandoned any hope of sufficient rest days ago and it stung to admit such a defeat. Since abdicating the throne, Elsa _ had _ been getting the most fruitful sleep of her life—hardly even budging most nights. Now she only dozes off when her body gives up, only for somber images to plague her mind and startle her awake shortly after. 

On the inside, she tries to tell herself it wasn’t real, but the thought only maddens her sobs. For all intents and purposes, every piece of the dream _ did _ happen. She curls inward, knuckles impossibly white as nails bite into her arms. The soft fibers beneath her crackle and stiffen, but she’s numb to the sensation at this point. The cold makes no difference here. And even if it did, there’s no one around to hurt. There’s only Elsa, which doesn’t feel like very much at all.

The rime crawls over the pelts and consumes the cushions of her makeshift bed, which is situated between two of the large ice columns lining the walls. It’s a cozy little space amidst a large and vacant room, sprinkled with comforts from her life in Arendelle and new ones she’s gathered since her move. Through her tear-stained vision, Elsa’s eyes wander to the small, knitted penguin laying next to dried lavender at the head of her bed. With a shivering hand, she picks up the frayed toy and gently tugs at the strings of orange yarn atop its head. 

She almost didn’t pack him when she moved, but some inner voice told her she might need his company again one day. Right now, Elsa is so, _ so _ grateful she listened. She almost opens her mouth to talk to him, just like she used to, but she knows it’s not necessary. Sir Jörgenbjörgen already knows. He always does. 

Minutes pass while she caresses his hair and lulls herself into a trance. Once her rapid breathing has evened, Elsa gingerly sets the penguin aside and brings her still-trembling hand to the token on her opposite wrist. Guilt crashes into her like a tidal wave as she feels along the white sun and snowflake that Honey so thoughtfully stitched into the blue-tinged leather. She must’ve spent hours on this bracelet. Days or weeks, even. And how long did she quietly buzz with excitement before their anniversary arrived? All that work and waiting, only for Elsa to shove her away the day she finally opened it. . .

She resents herself for not returning days ago, but she’s also certain Honey would want nothing to do with her. Not after what she did. And _ especially _ now that she’s vanished for as long as she has. The two worst things she could ever do to Honey, and Elsa somehow managed to pull both off in the span of a single day. _ Of course _ she did, because that’s what Elsa does. She ruins. Destroys. Takes cherished things and lets them drip like blood through her hands. She can’t go back. The mere thought of facing Honey’s gentle brown eyes makes her stomach churn. 

Weighed down by a familiar ache in her bones, Elsa’s head lobs forward until it’s almost touching her lap. Tangled strands of hair stream down her cheeks and a soft perfume of lavender floats along with them. She steals a glance at the bundle of dried flowers beside her, then buries her face in her palms and erupts into a chorus of raspy sobs.

_ “It’s supposed to help calm you,” _ she remembers Honey saying. _ “I tried using it to help me sleep. My father used it with Ryder when he had nightmares. It never helps me but it worked for him. You should take some in case you have another dream like that.” _

The lavender never seems to help Elsa either, but she likes having it around. The pleasant scent keeps her company and the thought of Honey always rouses a smile. Or that’s usually the case . . . Right now, the smell burns like acid when it reaches her nose. The sight feels less like a gentle reminder and more like a boulder bashing through her chest. 

Minutes pass like hours as sobs continue to scrape her throat raw and ice swallows the rest of her belongings. With each second, Elsa folds further and further into herself—so far that the space around her begins to dissipate.

So far that she _ almost _ misses the indistinct voice creeping into the cavern.

It’s not until another muffled voice seeps in that her head whips up. Elsa surveys the room with her brow knitted tightly, then bolts to her feet and tentatively makes her way across the cavern, surprised to find herself still alone.

Even now, this glacier makes her shiver from time to time. It’s the mystical place her mother sang of as she cradled her daughters in the night, and it’s become a sanctuary for Elsa ever since she bounded toward her purpose within these walls almost two years ago. But only _ she _ has the ability to cross the Dark Sea unscathed, and she knows all too well what grisly fate awaits any others who try. Juxtaposed with its solace and wonder, Ahtohallan is also the destination her parents never reached.

She tries to stifle her sniffles as she nears a triangular archway along the back wall. The voices grow louder and clearer with each step, and she freezes as she reaches the opening, realizing that one has now morphed into high-pitched laughter. 

That laugh. Elsa _ knows _ that laugh. 

Her pace quickens as she steps through and enters another spacious cavern, except she’s not alone anymore. Moving in front of her are the lifelike snow figures of two young girls whom she instantly recognizes. Her younger sister—around five years old at the time—bounces up and down on an ice-crusted bed with two dolls in hand. On the floor nearby, Elsa sees her eight year old self surrounded by a mess of toys with a sour look on her face.

A memory. 

She’s watched many play out in this room, though she’s never witnessed one materialize without being summoned. It feels almost like a conversation, like the glacier is speaking to her. Like Ahtohallan knows something she doesn’t. Elsa looks up as if she’ll somehow find the answer on the ceiling, but her eyes are called back down when she hears her younger self groan.

_“Blech! Ugh, Anna, why do you have to make everyone kiss?”_

_ “Because love is good, Elsa! It’s important and fun and beauuuutiful!” Anna sings, plopping down and draping her back over the edge of the mattress. “Don’t you wanna fall in love one day?” _

Even now, part of Elsa winces at the question.

_“I mean, I guess . . . if I can . . .” her younger self mumbles._

_ “Huh?” Anna rolls upright with a puzzled look. “Why can’t you?” _

_ “I don’t kn—” _

_ “C’mon! Look at this prince and tell me you don’t want him to kiss you,” she teases, wiggling her brows and holding the doll far too close to her sister’s face for comfort. _

_ Elsa shoves it away, unamused. “I do _ not _ want him to kiss me.” _

_ “How come!?” _

_ “Because! I . . .” Elsa’s nervous voice fades as she turns away, shoulders rigid and arms folded. She stays like this for an agonizing while, then turns back and sheepishly takes the doll in her hands. _

_ “You . . . ?” _

_ “I— I guess maybe . . . I wouldn’t mind . . .” Elsa murmurs, sounding more like she’s asking herself than answering. Her little sister doesn’t seem to notice though. _

_ “Aha! See!? You do wanna fall in love!” Anna shrills, then resumes jumping on the bed and sings, “Elsa’s gonna fall in love! Elsa’s gonna fall in love!” _

_ “Stop, Anna!” she grumbles._

Though the figures are solid white, Elsa is certain that her face must’ve been beet red in that moment. She still feels nerves prickle under her skin as she watches.

_“What’s this I hear?” a new voice swoops in with a chuckle._

Elsa spins on her heels to follow the sound, though she’d know that gentle voice anywhere. She turns just in time to watch the cozy figure of her mother step past with her father in tow.

_“Elsa’s in love!” Anna squeals, excitedly hopping down from the bed and snatching the prince from her sister’s hands. “With him!” she adds, holding him out proudly. _

_ Elsa wrings her hands and purses her lips, only glancing up for a moment to meet her parents’ eyes. _

_ “Well, Elsa doesn’t look like she is,” her mother observes. _

_ “That’s just ‘cause she’s too awkward to show it.” _

“Anna!”_ Elsa whines, face teetering somewhere between uncomfortable and hurt. Their parents exchange a glance and her father steps forward to rustle Elsa’s hair. _

_ “Oh . . . she’ll grow out of that soon enough, don’t you worry,” he says in a tender voice. Surely he means to comfort her, but the words only deepen Elsa’s frown. Her mother’s eyes linger on him, then trace back to her daughters. _

_ “Why don’t we put a pin in all this love talk for now, huh?” she interrupts, booping Anna’s nose before scooping her up. “It’s time for your baths anyway.” As she rises, the smooth of her hand brushes Elsa’s cheek and draws out a weak smile. Her mother’s gaze hovers on it before she sucks in a breath and makes her way toward the door. _

_ “Come along, Elsa.” Her father grins with his hand stretched out. Elsa’s lips pinch into another smile as she squares her shoulders, meets his eyes, and takes it._

Wringing out a heavy breath of her own, Elsa watches the figures drift away before evaporating. The cavern somehow feels more empty than ever as she lets the memory settle into her chest, trying to discern why it surfaced in the first place. But before more thoughts can flood her mind, a small voice whines behind her.

_“I wanna wait for Elsa!”_

Startled, Elsa whirls around and plods to the opposite end of the cavern, finding the figure of her mother setting her younger sister down in bed.

_“She’s just finishing up her bath, darling,” her mother says, settling on the edge of the mattress. “She’ll be here soon, but you need to try and sleep.”_

_ “But you _ always _ tuck us in together!” Anna pouts. “Why can’t we wait?” _

_ “I know you like doing things with her, but there are going to be times when the best way you can be Elsa’s sister is by listening to what she needs.” _

_ Anna sits with the words, then slumps over and kicks her legs out in defeat. “So . . . what does she need?” _

_ “I think she needs some quality time with Mama tonight—which means that _ we _ get quality time right now!” her mother chirps. Giggles leap through the air as she tickles Anna’s stomach and scoops her tiny frame into her arms. _

The sight of her sister cozied up in her mother’s embrace lifts Elsa’s face into the first smile she’s felt in days. She always had a way of doing that; coaxing out a smile. Elsa watches intently as her mother hums a familiar lullaby and tenderly strokes her pinky along the bridge of Anna’s nose. It takes less than a minute for her sister’s arms plop down by her head and her eyes to flutter shut.

_“We’re all done,” her father’s voice enters. He quietly approaches, carrying Elsa’s sunken frame in his arms. _

_ “I’ll tuck her in,” her mother whispers, pulling a blanket over Anna’s sprawled out body and shuffling over to meet them. With a nod, her father presses a soft kiss into his daughter’s braided hair before setting her on her feet and turning to leave. Silently, Elsa trudges over to her bed and climbs in without needing to be asked. _

_ “So . . .” her mother begins, treading carefully behind her, “you seemed upset earlier. Would you like to talk about it?” _

_ With a slow shake of her head, Elsa crosses her legs and averts her eyes to the bottom of her nightgown. _

_ “That’s okay, we don’t have to,” her mother reassures as she rests on the edge of the bed. “Do you feel any better after your bath, though?” _

_ She’s met with a mere shrug while Elsa’s troubled gaze remains fixed on her lap. _

_ “Hmmm . . . I know what you need.” _

_ Without another word, her mother gracefully climbs into bed, situating her back against the pillows and pulling Elsa in close at her side. Once they’re settled, she reaches for her daughter’s hair, then unravels the neat plait and gingerly runs her fingers through the damp strands. _

Elsa brings a hand to the back of her head and mirrors her movement, lost in the comforting memory of her touch, and remembering how her mother used to do the same with her own hair. It didn’t happen often; she could count on both hands the number of times she saw her mother untie her tightly braided bun. _ “It needs to breathe,” _ she would say as she carded through the loose, chestnut curls. It was a side of her so rarely seen and Elsa cherished it like a precious gem. It felt so special. So beautiful. So _ her. _

She never understood what letting it breathe meant, but as she stands alone in this cavern, running her fingers through her own loose hair, the words make perfect sense. It needs to breathe. Of course it needs to breathe.

After a stretch of silence, the mumble of her younger voice rouses Elsa from her mind.

_“Mama?” she asks. _

_ “Yes, darling?” _

_ “What happens if I don’t fall in love like Anna says?” _

_ “Then you’ll live a happy life.” _

_ Elsa’s face sinks at the answer. “But what if I _ do _ fall in love?” _

_ “You’ll live a happy life, Elsa,” she repeats. “And that person will be very lucky, whoever they are.” _

_ “You think so?” _

_ “I _ know _ so,” she assures. “You have a loving heart, that’s the only thing that matters.” With a comforting squeeze, she takes her hand and strokes her thumb over the top of her daughter’s wrist. “But you’ll fall in love, don’t worry.” _

_ Elsa eyes her skeptically. “How do you know?” _

_ “Everyone does.” _

_ “Everyone?” she asks like it’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard. _

_ “Yes, silly, _ everyone,” _ her mother chuckles. “There’s more than one kind of love. There’s the kind Anna talks about, which is the kind your father and I feel. But there’s also the kind I feel for you and the kind you feel for me . . . I hope!” she jokes, lightly booping her on the nose and earning a giggle. Elsa’s nods with her face scrunched into a warm grin. _

_ “There’s the kind you and Anna feel for each other,” she continues, quiet eyes wandering to Anna’s bed, then tracing back to Elsa. “And there’s also the kind you feel for yourself . . . I hope.” Her face glows with sincerity as she gives her hand another squeeze. “It looks a little different for everyone, but we all fall in love at least once. It’s just a matter of how.” _

_ Elsa turns the thought over in her mind. “I didn’t know love could be so many things,” she says shyly. _

_ “It’s wonderful, isn’t it?“ Her mother smiles softly, releasing her daughter’s hand to cup her cheek. “That we can be so much to so many different people?” _

_ Elsa nods as she sits with the words, one corner of her lips still curled into a grin. “Mama?” she asks again. _

_ “Yes, darling?” _

_ “I love you,” she says, nestling her head into her shoulder. _

_ “Oh, Elsa . . .” her mother sighs fondly, tightening her hold. “I love you more than life.” _

The last words sting the air as the figures flurry away, dredging up a sense of guilt in their wake; one that Elsa knows all too well. But before tears have the chance to form, another voice sprouts up behind her.

_“Is Anna gonna be okay?” _

Elsa doesn’t even need to turn around to place the memory. She’s not sure whether she should cry or scream or laugh at the fact that Ahtohallan has the audacity to show her a night she’s spent her entire life reliving. Every vivid detail was scorched into her mind and hasn't budged since the moment she accidentally struck Anna with her magic. As pointless and pitiless as it seems, she decides to humor the glacier, spinning just in time to watch the figure of her younger self slog into bed and burrow beneath the covers.

_“Yes, darling, Anna will be just fine,” her mother assures, exhaustion heavy in her voice. “She just needs some rest now.” _

_ Elsa’s face falls. “But she won’t remember I have powers when she wakes up,” she murmurs, each word trembling on her tongue. _

_ “That’s true.” _

_ “And I have to hide it from her . . .” _

_ Her mother sucks in a deep breath, then deflates. “It appears that’s the plan for now.” _

_ “I don’t like this, Mama . . .” _

With her young eyes lost ahead of her, Elsa had never noticed the way her mother began faintly chewing on her lip. She looks on as her younger self begins to sniffle, but she keeps her focus on her mother, now recognizing the quiet dread whispering behind her gaze.

_“I know, I know. I don’t like it either,” her mother soothes. “I promise I’m trying to find a way to make it better.” She leans down, just as she always does, to instinctively blanket her daughter in her arms. _

_ “No!” Elsa shouts, jerking away and shaking her head frantically. Her mother instantly pulls back, eyes wide and brimming with confusion. _

_ “Don’t . . ." Elsa’s voice wilts. “What if I hurt you too . . . ?” _

_ “I don’t think you’ll hurt me,” her mother says softly, gaze fixed on Elsa as she kneels beside the bed. Both arms come to rest on the edge of the mattress, keeping enough distance so her daughter won’t flinch further away. “I won’t if you don’t want me to, but I’m not afraid. You do know that, right?” _

_ Elsa only responds with a heaving chest and quivering lips. _

_ “Do you want Mama to hold you . . . ?” _

_ The sorrow pooling in her eyes speaks the answer before Elsa finally musters the strength to shake her head. A beat of silence cracks through the air, and then she breaks, splintering in a way that screams she’ll never be pieced together quite the same again. “Why do I even have m—magic?” she weeps through fragmented breaths. “I don’t— I don’t want it anymore, Mama. I just want it to s—stop . . .” _

Though the figures are already frozen, Elsa knows this is the point where the warm blanket draped over her body stiffened with ice that quickly engulfed the entire bed. It wasn’t even her bed, either. It was a guest chamber her parents had her sleep in that night so Anna could rest and heal. She spent each following night in that room, and all of her belongings were relocated there shortly after. Part of Elsa had always fantasized about getting her very own room, a refuge from her sometimes-too-bubbly sister, but not like that. Never like that.

This was the night she learned to stop wanting things.

Helplessly, she looks on as her mother rises from the floor, a shattered heart reflected in her own face.

_“Hey,” she soothes over Elsa’s cries, “I have something that might help you feel better, but I have to leave to get it. Will you be okay if I do?” _

_ Sobs fade to sporadic hiccups as Elsa gives a slow nod. _

_ “Deep breaths until I get back, okay?” _

Her mother’s snowy figure lingers for a moment, making certain that her daughter is calm enough to be left alone, then evaporates as she turns away. 

_“I was saving him for your birthday, but I think he wants to meet you now.” _

Elsa turns to watch the figure of her mother approach again, this time cradling a small, stuffed penguin in her hands.

_“The cold won’t hurt him. In fact, he loves it. Doesn’t bother him one bit,” she explains, holding the toy out. “Here.” _

_ Elsa stretches out a reluctant hand and accepts him. Through her tear-blurred vision, she studies the penguin, cautiously stroking her fingers over his face until they arrive at the yarn atop his head. _

She never figured out what drew her to his hair that night, but the soft string between her fingers was a feeling Elsa couldn’t get enough of. She watches her younger self begin to tug at the them ever so gently; a rhythm that became its own sort of lullaby over the years. The yarn couldn’t be felt through her gloves once she started wearing them, but the motion itself became just as soothing. It still is.

_“And you know what else?” her mother asks as she kneels back down. “I spent a lot of time talking to him while I was making him, and I found out he’s a really good listener. So, if you ever have any big feelings and don’t want to talk to anyone else, you can talk to him.” _

_ Keeping her grasp on the yarn, Elsa hugs the penguin tightly to her chest. Her mother reels in a deep breath. _

_ “Listen to me, Elsa,” she continues, “I know tonight was scary and things are going to be different now, but please remember that you _ can _ talk to me. I love you and that’s never going to change, okay?” _

_ The reassurance only evokes more tears as Elsa clutches the toy, struggling to muzzle the cries rattling her throat. _

_ “Remember the enchanted forest Papa told you about earlier?” her mother asks, keeping her voice calm and ever so gentle. _

_ Elsa responds with another hesitant nod. _

_ “Why don’t you close your eyes and imagine you’re there. Picture all the trees and flowers and animals.” _

_ Still wrestling with her lungs, Elsa buries her chin into the plush and lets her heavy eyes fall shut. The two sit in silence as her mother maintains a watchful gaze, only moving when she hears her breathing steady and the crackle of ice melting away from the bed. _

_ “What’s it like there?” she asks. _

_ “It’s pretty,” Elsa whispers. _

_ Her mother smiles softly. “I bet it is. You stay there until you fall asleep, okay?” _

As the words die out, the figure of her mother flurries away once more. Elsa waits, expecting her younger self to fade as well, except she never does. She simply lays there, still and serene, with the penguin anchored in her arms. It’s not until she rolls over and curls up on her side that Elsa remembers what happened later in the night.

_“That’s not how we should be handling this, Iduna.” _

Her stomach drops as the stern, muffled sound of her father’s voice echoes throughout the cavern. She doesn’t bother searching for his figure, knowing she won’t find it. It’s just her now; just her and those voices. She’d always theorized that her parents must’ve been walking and happened to stop outside of her door, not realizing where they were. They’d never argued around her before that night. As young as she was, Elsa could tell their exchange wasn’t meant for her little ears.

_“She was mortified, Agnarr!” her mother counters in a biting voice. _

_ Sheets rustle as Elsa's young body stirs, slowly waking from the disturbance. _

_ “And what about now?” her father asks. “What if she stops taking this seriously?” _

_ “Do you actually think there’s the slightest possibility of that happening? This is Elsa we’re talking about. Anna won’t remember tonight but she always will. Our daughter isn’t going to be the same . . . she’s already different. This—_hiding_—it’s already too much for her, Agnarr. You— you have no idea what it’s like to hide something like that.” _

_ “Perhaps not,” her father admits, “but the point stands that Elsa did something that almost cost Anna her life and you rewarded her with a gift.” _

_ “It was an _ accident,” _ her mother insists. “And the toy wasn’t a reward—I gave her something to comfort her. You and I both know there’s a difference.” _

_ A drawn out sigh softens her father’s voice. “I just wish you would’ve talked to me first.” _

_ “Our _ daughter _ wouldn’t let me touch her, Agnarr. I understand that you’re upset and under different circumstances, yes, I would’ve consulted with you. But Elsa needed something she wasn’t afraid to hold. I’m not sorry for what I did. _ ” _ There’s a long pause before she lets out an exasperated huff. “Wait, why are we even talking about this here? She could wake up and hear us.” _

Their voices fade into an unbearable silence as they move away from the room. Elsa studies her younger self, who remains frozen and twisted up small as a crumb under the covers. Her only movement is the tentative flow of her fingers, which have found their place back in the penguin’s hair.

_“I guess I should feel bad about having you now too, huh?” she mumbles, jaw trembling as she stares at him, then deflates with a heavy sigh and lets herself hug him tight. “I know Mama said you love the cold, but I’m gonna make you a cloak anyway, okay? Just to be safe.” _

The figure of her younger self finally disappears with the rest of the memory. Elsa stays cemented in place, clinging to herself as more fragments tip-toe through her mind. The glacier remains silent, as if affording her the space she so desperately needs. Elsa’s not sure how much time has passed before a rhythmic knock bounces into the cavern, followed by a new, more mature voice.

_“So . . . you’re really doing it, huh?” _

Her eyes rise to the sight of her sister, now an early adult, approaching her older self in the castle’s study. Elsa follows her own gaze down to the sea of papers littering her desk. She slouches over them as she scribes neatly onto the parchment, leaning so far in that loose strands from her braid spill into her face.

_“I am,” Elsa confirms without looking up, “and I’m almost done.” _

_ “It’s a big decision,” Anna points out, sounding almost nervous as she nears. _

_ The writing comes to a halt. Elsa peers up at her sister. “Does big mean bad?” _

_ “Of course not. I just mean . . . it’s only been a few months since your coronation and—well—everything else . . . If you do this, you know some people won’t be happy.” _

_ Swallowing hard, Elsa leans back in the chair, lips pursed and hands balled into fists on her lap. “And that means I shouldn’t.” _

_ “No, Elsa! That’s not what I’m saying. It’s just— things are settling down now and there’s a lot of eyes on you. I just want to make sure you’re ready for whatever might happen—that you’ll be okay, you know?” _

_ “This isn’t about me, Anna. This is about what’s best for Arendelle. I know some people won’t be happy. In fact, I expect it. Which is why I’m drafting another order as we speak.” _

_ A paper slides across the desk and Anna studies it, narrow eyes scanning over every word until her face lights up. “Oooh, that’s smart! Man, you’re like, _ really _ good at this queen thing already.” _

_ “I don’t know if I’d go that far . . .” _

_ “You are! This is a good idea, Elsa—a great one actually.” _

_ “You think so?” _

_ “Of course! It makes perfect sense,” Anna insists, casually rounding the desk to close the distance between them. “Things are so different now. You and I are talking. The gates are open wide. Our childhood snowman is alive . . .” _

_ A smile cracks through Elsa’s stoic expression. Their eyes meet for a moment and the two giggle softly at the thought. _

_ “The entire world should be a place where everyone feels welcome,” Anna adds through her laughter, looking up at nothing in particular, then back at her sister, “but since it’s not, the least we can do is make sure everyone feels welcome here.” _

_ A comforting hand comes to rest on Elsa’s shoulder. “I’ve got your back,” Anna vows. “Whatever you need.” _

_ “Really?” _

_ “Do you actually have to ask?” Anna chuckles again. “Of course I’ve got you. I love you, Elsa. _ Really _ , really.” _

_ One of the closed palms in her lap opens, then rises to meet the steady hand still hugging her shoulder. Though she can only muster a whisper in response, Elsa wills herself to speak. _

_ “I love you too, Anna.” _

In a glistening gust of air, the figures fade away, leaving Elsa to sift through the shreds of her battered mind once more. 

The early months of her reign as queen haven’t crossed her mind since, well . . . she honestly can’t remember. Because she didn’t live through those months, not really; she just survived. For the most part, Elsa only felt alive when she was with Anna, cherishing the moments they spent rebuilding a lifetime of lost sisterhood together. All the formalities and logistics, the endless meetings and fancy dinners, the tortuous balls spent declining dance offers from potential suitors, they were just moments she had to get through. 

Maybe in another lifetime she would’ve felt better suited for the role, but not this one. Serving as queen was like finding that one puzzle piece that_ almost _ fits, but no matter which way it’s turned or how hard it’s pressed, it just doesn’t want to stay. 

Still, Elsa did what she could to make her time and power count. She locked herself away for days drafting those orders, scrutinizing each letter to ensure there was no room for dispute. The previous weeks had been spent agonizing over every possible outcome, yet finally unearthing the courage to pick up her quill anyway. 

After it was over, after the initial shock relaxed and most warmed up to the change, she simply tried to forget it had ever happened, comforted by the knowledge that everyone could live and love freely while also accepting the same could never be true for herself. 

It was okay, though. Love was never really in the cards for her anyway. 

And for much of her life, living wasn’t either.

As the memory loops through her mind, part of Elsa wonders if Anna suspected her inner motives. Up until this moment, she’d been convinced this whisper of herself could only be heard by her, but now she’s not so sure. She thinks back to the path her mother’s thumb drew over her wrist and the careful manner of her words.

_ “You’ll live a happy life, Elsa,” _ she said. _ “And that person will be very lucky, whoever they are.” _

Whoever. 

It seems so glaringly obvious now. If anyone could see through Elsa’s facade, of course it would’ve been her. Iduna was no stranger to hiding, she had come to learn in recent years. It wasn’t until long after her parents’ failed voyage that she and Anna discovered their mother’s roots with the Northuldra. While Honey had grown up inside the mist, most of her life was spent locked out of it. And due to the preconceived notions about _ those _people, she swallowed that truth and built an entire room to encase it.

She then watched Elsa’s life flow down the same river as her own, with no ounce of control over the current. So she did what she could: transformed her stuffed penguin into something more than just a toy. In the mere minutes she’d spent retrieving him, she molded him into a tool—someone who could listen and was allowed to know everything the rest of the world couldn't. Sir Jörgenbjörgen knew. He always has. Elsa wondered what they talked about while she made him. Now, she can hear those whispered secrets start to trickle through.

Twenty six years. Twenty six years spent believing no one saw her or would ever see her, only to realize that someone already had. Elsa’s mother looked at her and she knew. She looked at her and she loved. Not in spite of or aside from, just _ loved. _

So, what good is hiding behind a curtain that doesn’t even cover her feet?

All this time, the world Elsa had helped change continued to grow around her while she remained static as an overgrown trellis; standing in the same spot her whole life, just as she is now: rigid and still, feet cemented to the ground as if one step in any direction would hurl her into a hungry void and swallow her whole. Moving means falling.The end. 

But in the midst of these whispers from the past, another voice seeps into the cavern. Elsa doesn’t move, but listens for a long moment, bathing in the familiar, sweet, sticky sound she hasn’t heard in days; so sticky that it’s lingered on her skin since the day she first heard it. Though she tried many times early on, that mouthwatering voice never did wash away. And now, she doesn’t ever want it to.

With a deep breath, she takes a step toward it, now certain that—even if she does fall—someone will be there to catch her.

And that someone’s name is Honeymaren.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve had many of these scenes outlined/drafted since the beginning and I’m so happy I finally got to share them with you. Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> For anyone that might’ve been interested, I posted the omitted scene from the last chapter [here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24249415) It ain’t much but it’s honest work. I also drew the scene of Elsa and Honeymaren sitting under the willow from the last chapter, which you can find [here.](https://doctorthedoctor.tumblr.com/post/618064319425478656/the-forest-was-my-only-world-before-you-showed)
> 
> Personal note:  
Without flooding you with details, my life has been pretty rough since last August, so getting in the mindset to write can be hard at times. I’ve been struggling with my mental health and am trying to find ways to take care of myself given my personal situation and the state of the world, but I’m always thinking about this fic and am determined to finish it. We’re only about a third of the way through. It’s gonna be a long drive, but please know how much I appreciate your patience and you sticking with this story. Your encouragement means so much to me. 
> 
> As always, I hope you all are doing well and staying safe. I’m sending you lots of love and good vibes. Thank you so much for reading. I’m very excited about this next chapter and hope to have it up for you soon <3


	12. Lead the Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning for discussion of depression/suicidal thoughts. It’s not super explicit, but just a heads up. **
> 
> As always, if you need to skip this one, let me know if you would like a summary. You can drop an anonymous ask on my tumblr @doctorthedoctor if that’s more comfortable.
> 
> Angst aside, there’s mega Soft and Sweet moments in this chapter. Hope you enjoy!

Though she tries to follow the new voice, every corner of the cavern meets Elsa with a shattering loneliness. The muffled sound simply echoes around her, close enough to hear but too far to understand. Discerning the blurred words is hardly a concern, however. This voice is _ here _ and it’s _ Honey’s _ and that’s all Elsa needs to keep moving. Any previous remorse melts away as she searches, now eclipsed by the desire to just _ see _ her. 

She moves with urgency, but what started as confident steps grow uncertain with each fruitless second. Her sullen, puffy eyes whip back and forth over every inch of the room, as if she’d somehow missed sight of Honey the first time around. It’s a silly thought, of course. She’d never _ not _ notice her. Elsa can see that woman with her eyes closed. Always has, always will.

The emptiness of the cavern turns deafening, eventually drowning out the sweet notes of her voice. Elsa’s frame slouches in defeat as she finally comes to a stop. Having abandoned her search, she stares at the ground for a long while, imagining her body curling up in that exact spot and just . . . sleeping. Evaporating like the memories here. Maybe more. Maybe not. At this point, it’s hard to tell what she wants.

As the thought lingers, a warm ball of light ignites under her feet. Slowly, it floats forward beneath the icy floor, then hovers for a moment as if coaxing her along. With Honey’s voice gone and nowhere else to turn, Elsa wills herself to follow it. 

The light guides her out of the cavern through a triangular archway she is almost certain she’s never seen before. Then again, how much of the world has passed her blindly so far? Maybe it’s new, or maybe she just never made a point to notice it. That seems to be the pattern after all. If nothing else, at least her faults are consistent.

She trails behind the radiance, which never wavers as they wind through a narrow tunnel together. Ahtohallan is less like a natural structure and more like a language, and she is the only one fluent in it. She knows every chamber of its magic and each vein that flows through—or she thought she did, at least. Elsa never could master the language of certainty, though. 

It’s like walking through a root; the further down she moves, the closer the cold breaths of the walls come to slithering over her skin. The tunnel shrinks with each clack of her feet on the ice, and the question in Elsa’s mind shifts from whether she _ should _ continue to whether she even _ can. _

Maybe she’s going too far again.

Maybe it’s not such a bad idea this time around.

Another pause, or possibly an end, crosses her mind, but a few steps forward broaden the passage, which opens to reveal a new cavern. It’s identical to the other in all manners except for size. This one is smaller. Cozier. Sort of like the first hut Ryder and Honey built together.

When Elsa stills in the center of it, the light pulses beneath her before scattering across the floor and surging up the walls in every direction. It reconnects overhead, then melts into a glowing puddle that pools throughout the ceiling. It’s a gentle kind of brilliance, soft as it illuminates the space. And at the same time, it’s the brightest the glacier has ever shone. Something about the air feels steadier with it here—more alive, somehow. It breathes around her. 

If glaciers had hearts, this must be how it feels to stand inside.

Maybe they do, Elsa wonders. Maybe she is.

The thought is lost when a creak slips in.

Her eyes follow the sound to the wall on her left. A towering, ice-crusted Arendellian door swings open. Elsa watches her past self step through with one arm stretched behind, pulling something along with an abundant smile.

Correction: some_one. _

Elsa’s gaze welds to Honey as the door closes.

_ “Are you going to lock it?” _

_ “Of course.” Elsa’s past self nods, one hand already moving to flip the lock. “There we go. We can breathe now,” she adds, tugging on the handle to show that it’s barred shut. _

At the time, Elsa didn’t know what a locked door meant to Honey, only that she seemed to need it in the same way Elsa needs to return to Ahtohallan at the end of each day. Neither she nor Ryder spoke of it whenever they hosted her, so she resolved to leave her questions at the door and simply follow their lead. 

It’s just the two of them now; Elsa and Honey, hands woven together with giggles under their breaths and a locked door behind them. No other details from the memory materialize, but no other details are needed. Elsa can see the room clear as day and smell the dust drifting through the air around them.

_ “So, Maren, welcome to the gallery,” she sings. _

Right. Honey was still Maren then. 

This was the day that changed.

This was the day a lot changed. 

_ Maren’s face glows with awe as she takes the space in. “I’ve never seen so many worlds in a single room.” _

_ “Just wait until you see the library,” she replies with a smirk. _

If there’s one thing Elsa is certain she’ll never grow tired of, it’s watching Honey greet the world around her. Past or present, she can’t help but bathe in the pure joy that washes over her. Honey drinks every sight in like fresh water through parched lips. Well, most of the time, that is.

That’s how they ended up in the gallery. 

Royal weddings in Arendelle were already flooded with people before the mist was lifted, and the addition of the Northuldra only added to the crowd. It was for this reason that Anna and Kristoff opted to hold their wedding in the courtyard. Before that day, Honey had never been surrounded by such a vast sea of bodies and voices at once. The mist could only hold so many people, but she was quickly learning that the world can hold so,_ so _ much more.

Though the two maintained a friendly yet respectable distance during the reception, Elsa couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes widened ever so slightly if someone greeted her from behind, or how her chest tightened when the band would start up after a brief intermission. On the surface, Honey was still very much her comfortable, charismatic self, but somewhere beyond that, a heaviness clouded her eyes—one Elsa knows all too well.

She hadn’t often witnessed another person carrying that same burden in a large crowd. Though part of Elsa felt understood in a manner she had never been, seeing those whispers of unease reflected in Honey made her heart ache. The air was fresh and open, but this feeling nudged her away from the celebration and she decided to lead Honey to a space that had once served as her own sanctuary.

_ “It’s nice that we can still hear the music,” Maren notes. _

_ Elsa pauses and turns so they are facing, then connects their empty hands. “It is,” she says shyly. “It would almost feel like a waste if I didn’t ask you to dance.” _

_ Maren slumps at the offer. “Um, our dancing’s a bit different,” she mumbles. “I don’t know how to do it the way you do . . .” _

_ “Oh, I don’t mean that fancy stuff everyone else was doing,” Elsa assures with a chuckle, waving the thought off like a pesky bug. “There’s a simpler way. Here.” _

_ Gently, and with puzzling ease, she rests one hand on Maren’s waist. Though the contact comes as a surprise, Maren mirrors her; a timid hand finding its place on the hemline of Elsa’s dress. Keeping their other hands entwined, Elsa begins slowly rocking from side to side and Maren follows suit. A light melody swims around them as they sway together, two bodies ebbing and flowing like steady waves kissing a shoreline. _

Elsa’s face almost sparkles as she watches the memory. This was the moment she knew Honey had roused a boldness she didn’t know existed in her. Dance? Elsa doesn’t dance, and she certainly doesn’t _ lead. _She’d never imagined herself being in a position to make such an offer, nor entertained the idea that anyone would accept should the chance happen to arise.

But the world has been full of surprises lately. 

And apparently, so has Elsa.

_ “I like this,” Maren says as they move. _

_ “Me too,” Elsa smiles softly, “It’s easier than I thought it would be.” _

_ “What do you mean?” _

_ Her gaze flits briefly to the ground. “Well, I’ve never danced with anyone before.” _

_ “Really? No one?” _

_ Elsa can’t help but giggle at her shock. “Nope,” she says through her laughter, “I’ve never met anyone I actually wanted to dance with.” She shrugs, then meets her with a warm grin. “I never had a Honeymaren.” _

_ “I thought I was Maren,” she teases with a smirk. _

_ “Honey. Maren. I like it all.” Elsa breathes an awkward laugh. “Though, if I’m being honest, Honey is my favorite part.” _

_ Maren’s face softens at the confession. “Yeah?” _

_ “Mhmm. It’s sweet . . . you’re sweet,” she says shyly, “and you know how much I like sweet.” _

_ “Oh, I certainly do . . .” Maren chuckles, playfully rolling her eyes. Her hand then drifts to Elsa’s back and gently closes the space between them. “My sweet, sweet Elsa and her sweet, sweet heart,” she whispers, resting her head on her shoulder. _

Elsa looks on, basking in the comfort gleaming from Honey’s expression. Before now, she’d never been able to see those adorably squished cheeks or the peaceful smile painting her face. It reminds her of the time she stumbled upon Honey napping under the willow that spring. She feels her chest swell with affection at the sight, just the same as it did then—maybe even more. Honey looked so at home among the flowers sprouting up from the soil that day. Elsa never imagined she’d look just at home in her arms.

Much to her disappointment, however, the distant song eventually comes to an end and she watches the two part.

_ “Shall I show you around?” Elsa asks, still keeping their hands laced. _

_ Maren nods, mouth curled into a smile. “Lead the way, Sweetheart.” _

_ Elsa blinks at her as the name registers. Once it does, timid lips roll between her teeth and she fights a grin. “Right this way, Honey,” she says, then steps forward to guide her. _

They never talked about their names after that, but it seemed to go without saying that whenever they were alone, this was who they were. Before that day, Elsa’s titles were mostly limited to yawn-inducing variants of “Your Highness” and “Your Majesty,” neither of which felt particularly _ her. _ But, Sweetheart? She enjoys being that. And she _ especially _ enjoys being that to Honey.

She watches the two circle the room while her past self humbly spouts knowledge of the invisible works lining the walls. Honey’s gaze flickers fondly between her and the paintings, then fixes on one in particular and brings them to a halt.

_ “This one was always my favorite,” Elsa explains. _

_ Honey studies it for a long moment. “It reminds me of you,” she notes, a smile twinkling in her eyes. _

_ Elsa follows her gaze to the subject, her face reflecting that same affection. “You know . . . looking at it now, it reminds me of you.” _

_ A blush-filled silence spreads through the room and Honey bashfully averts her eyes to the surrounding paintings. “Everything is so beautiful,” she sighs, “I feel like I could look at these forever.” _

_“That’s how I felt too. My world used to be my room, the library, and this.” Elsa pauses, sucking in a weighted breath. “But I usually had to wait until Anna was gone to come here. The gallery was one of her favorite places to play.”__  
__  
_ _Honey catches the wistful glint in her expression. “That must’ve been hard,” she whispers._

_ “Yeah.” Elsa huffs in defeat. “It certainly wasn’t easy.” _

_ “What was the hardest part?” _

_ “Of what?” _

_“Of growing up the way you did.”__  
__  
_ _The air falls quiet while Elsa stares at her favorite painting, eyes quickly growing lost ahead of her. “Not knowing if things would ever get better,” she finally murmurs, gnawing on her lip. “And knowing it was my fault,” she adds._

_ Honey’s voice springs back into the room. “Elsa, _ none _ of that was your fault.” _

_ “It was, though,” she insists. “It would’ve been one thing had it just been my life that changed, but it was Anna’s too. And my parents’.” She stands wordless for a long moment, thinking seriously before piling on, “Everyone had to hide because of me.” _

_ “You didn’t make that choice for them,” Honey reminds her. _

_ “But I was the reason it had to be made,” Elsa maintains. “You asked what the hardest part was, and that was it . . . being the reason. Feeling like everyone would be better off without me.” _

_ “I wouldn’t.” _

_ Elsa’s eyes snap back to Honey, who catches her in a tender, pensive stare. _

_ “I wouldn’t be better off,” she repeats. “I wouldn’t be able to see you or hear you or hold you, and my hands wouldn’t know yours . . .” Her voice trails off as she strokes a finger along Elsa's palm. “That’s not a world I want to imagine.” _

_ A stillness ripples through the space as she keeps her grasp on Elsa, turning something over in her mind. _

_ “Your favorite color is blue, isn’t it?” she asks after a while. _

_ “Um, yes . . .” Elsa confirms with a puzzled look. “What _ — _ ” _

_ “I just had a feeling.” Honey shrugs with a smirk. “That’s my second favorite.” _

_ Elsa tilts her head, curious and no longer bothered by the shift. “And your first favorite . . . ?” _

_ “Green. Like the moss near the streams. I like all green but I _ love _ that green. It’s always been my favorite,” she explains. “But I’ve never had a favorite blue . . . until I met you. Now I know it’s the sky the first day I saw it. You gave me that, Elsa. The sky. This world. All the worlds inside this world. I'm standing here, miles from the forest, the happiest I’ve ever been because of you.” She quietly traces her thumb along the top of Elsa’s wrist, then goes on, “I know it’s not a fun feeling, being the reason, but you’re the reason for a lot of good, too. And that’s not nothing.” _

Tears form as she watches Honey pull her into a tight hug. At the time, Elsa didn’t grasp how she understood the guilt. That’s the thing about Honey: she tends to keep her guessing, privately tackling the strains in her own life instead of letting others in. But Elsa has since unlocked those answers, and now she wants nothing more than to echo Honey’s words back so that maybe, just maybe, she will believe the same for herself.

Her sniffles join those of her past self while she watches Honey stroke through her hair, comforting her as she buries her face in the crook of her neck. Once her tears begin to wane, Honey pulls back and presses their foreheads together, keeping a firm grasp on the back of her head. 

Elsa’s stomach flutters as she watches Honey hold her gaze with a depth she hadn’t seen before that day. Her eyes only waver once, flickering down for just a second, and Elsa can already hear Honey’s next whispered words:

_ “May I kiss you?” _

Even now, the question rouses goosebumps. She can practically feel Honey’s breath sweep over her face as she asks, but the chills disappear as quickly as they came when she watches the face of her past self fall into uncertainty.

_ “I’ve never— I don’t know how . . .” Elsa murmurs. _

_ Honey meets her hesitation with a gentle smile. “No one does,” she reassures. “You don’t know it, you feel it.” _

_ Elsa swallows hard. “I’ve never been very good at feeling.” _

_ With a thoughtful look, Honey leans back, tenderly strokes under her eyes, then studies the teardrops gathered on her thumb. “I don’t think that’s true,” she says, catching her gaze once more. “Seems more like you’re just tired of hiding it.” _

Elsa’s jaw trembles as she looks on, feeling almost naked as Honey moves so their foreheads meet again.

_ “Forget about what you know,” she whispers. “What do you want?” _

It’s then that Elsa watches her own eyes flicker to Honey’s lips. She’s not quite sure when it happened, but at some point, she started seeing them differently; noticing them a little more, admiring the grace with which they moved, and imagining how they might taste and feel. She wondered if they were as sweet as her name and soft like the furs of their beds. She wondered if they were warm, and if they’d stay warm pressed against her own . . . 

But letting these thoughts be known was never an option. It had been so long since Elsa let herself want, she was convinced she’d forgotten how. Everything felt different inside Honey’s arms, though. Wanting felt safe. Wanting felt welcome. And it came back to her like an old song sewn deep in her memory. 

Elsa watches herself silently search for the tune, but she knows that her voice will remember before long before her mind has the chance to recall it.

_ “I want you to kiss me,” she whispers. _

_ As the confession meets the air, her breathing quickens and snow flurries begin swirling around them. With her eyes still bound to Honey’s, she doesn’t notice them at first, but when they finally float into her line of vision, a gasp shoots through her and her gaze plummets. _

_ “Hey,” Honey soothes, tilting back and nudging Elsa’s chin so her eyes return. Then, with a tender smile, she brings Elsa’s hands to her lips and presses soft, careful kisses to her fingers. The gesture is followed by her leaning in again, slow and steady, before planting a gentle peck on her forehead. “Breathe with me,” she then says, wrapping her arms around Elsa once more. _

Elsa looks on with a quiet sense of pride while her past self finally musters up the courage to test the waters as she breathes. She moves slowly through the fight against her lungs and brings her mouth to Honey’s cheek, then hovers for what feels like ten years before letting the two meet. The contact is quick, and her timid eyes clamp shut as she pulls away. Elsa’s heart dances as she watches, now able to see Honey’s face relax into a melted grin as she pulls her close.

_ “Keep breathing,” she whispers. _

_ And when Elsa’s lungs fill again, Honey’s lips dive smoothly into hers. _

_ She freezes at first, along with the flurries, which hover in the air like tiny stars around the kiss. The stillness prompts Honey to part, but it doesn’t take long for Elsa to tighten her grasp and move on instinct, delicately chasing her lips and maneuvering in any way possible to bring their bodies closer together. They pause every now and then, eyes shut and reluctant smiles lingering at a distance that can only be measured in specks of dust, but one always seems to pull the other back in like a planet drawn around the sun. _

Nerves ripple through Elsa as she watches the cherished memory play out in front of her. None of it felt real; not the warm silk of Honey’s lips or the salty notes of dinner on her breath or the longing sigh that rolled off her tongue. Up until then, this kind of thing always happened around Elsa, not _ to _ her. She’d only ever read about it and watched it play out in the lives of others. Of course, she’d be lying if she said she never tried to imagine the sensations, but for so long, she was certain those feelings would only exist in her head. The thought of kissing someone was just that: a thought. Nothing more.

Elsa had grown up hearing how the world disappeared in such moments, but she always scoffed at the hyperbolic claim. That was just something people said, surely, not something that actually happens.

It did disappear, though. She’s certain of it now. The world, that room, the worlds within that room—all of it _ actually _ disappeared. She can pinpoint the exact moment it happens as she watches, because the snow flurries disappear along with it, evaporating with ease into the heart of the glacier. It’s just them now; Elsa and Honey, arms woven around each other with shy grins under their breath and a locked door behind them.

The kiss lasts maybe a minute at most, but Elsa feels her world shift again as the memory carries on. 

_ “How did that feel?” Honey asks as they part. _

_ Elsa’s giddy smile speaks the answer. “Can we do it again . . . ?” _

_ Laughter bounces around them as Honey nods and returns to her lips without question. She dives a little deeper this time, earning another sigh, but the kiss is cut short by a clumsy tilt of Elsa’s head and the faint sound of their teeth clacking._  
_  
_ _ “I’m sorry . . . “ Elsa giggles against her. “I just can’t stop smiling . . .” _

_ Honey laughs again, marveling at her in long breaths before pulling her back in. _

_ “Never apologize for that,” she whispers, then captures her lips once more. _

Elsa tries to subdue the emptiness in her chest as the memory fades away. Ahtohallan, in all its glory and inconvenience, gives her no opportunity to dwell, however, because just as she turns to find that the door still stands, the cavern goes dark. 

Then, another creak slips in. 

Being so deep in the glacier, Elsa knows her eyes won’t adjust to the darkness, but a presence makes itself known: a memory steps through the door, followed by the hushed sound of familiar voices.

_ “I’ll get a fire going,” her past self whispers. _

_ “Great,” Honey whispers back. _

_ Right as the door shuts, Elsa’s cautious steps cease, and a thud echoes through the shadows. _

_ “Ouch!” _

_ “Are you okay?!” Honey asks urgently, keeping her voice low as she stumbles toward the source. _

_ “I’m fine,” Elsa chuckles under her breath. “I think my foot got caught under one of the pelts or something.” _

_ “Did you hurt your ankle?” _

_ “No, it twisted a little, but I feel fine.” _

_ “Are you sure . . . ?” _

_ “Yes,” Elsa giggles again. “I promise I’m okay. Really.” _

_ Honey sighs with relief. “Okay, well, you sit tight and _ I’ll _ get a fire going.” _

_ “Oh, I can still—“ _

_ “Leave it to me,” Honey insists. “That’s the first and last time I’m letting you fall tonight.” _

Elsa listens to the quiet clatter as Honey moves forward and begins working. She places the memory immediately, recognizing it as the most recent one the glacier has shown her—from this week, to be exact. The night before the incident with the door. 

She’s not sure what to make of the memory as it continues to unfold. It’s not until flames ignite that the light reappears in the cavern and illuminates the figures. It crackles inside the frosted fire for a moment, then drifts toward Elsa as if sensing her confusion. Her eyes follow it to the ice-crusted door, which is now small, rugged, and identical to the wooden door in Honey’s home. Wasting no time, the light floats through and hovers inside the lock.

The lock.

Elsa’s heart sinks at the sight of it flipped up; an open invitation for anyone and anything to sneak up at any given moment—which is precisely what ended up happening, and precisely _ why _ Honey always makes a point to check it. Except, Elsa drew her attention away this time, because it’s not that easy when she’s involved. It never is. 

The figures carry on as if nothing had happened, but the door seems to glare at Elsa now, screaming like an omen, and she realizes this must be how Honey feels all the time. That fear is a complicated one, fickle and perplexing, and even Honey struggles to understand it sometimes. But at the end of the day, her locked home is the one place she can find a shred of relief when she needs it. Elsa knows this by now, yet throughout the aftermath of Ryder’s startling return, she never so much as looked to see if Honey was okay.

She stares at the door with hollow eyes, mulling over the ordeal as the sounds of the memory fade behind her. Taking this as a hint, Elsa draws in a heavy breath and steps forward, watching the light wait patiently for her to arrive. It drifts forward as she pulls the door open, then guides her through a different, narrow passage that widens as they move up.

Elsa’s thoughts turn further inward with each step, and she’s not sure how long it’s been before she finds herself back in the original cavern. The light lingers near her for a moment, flickering ever so gently as if bidding goodbye, then trickles like a shimmering waterfall and dissipates into the ground.

Numb to her surroundings at this point, she slogs out of the cavern and lets her body carry her to bed before plopping down on the cushions in defeat. She sits quietly, stroking the woven sun and snowflake around her wrist, though her eyes never quite reach the symbols. 

Minutes pass before exhaustion tears her muted focus away and sinks her head down on the cushions. She reaches for the tattered penguin near her head, curling up with it as small as her frame will allow. Elsa’s fingers instinctively fall into that familiar, comforting rhythm within his hair, tugging steadily at the orange yarn until her breathing seems to follow suit. The glacier’s silence booms in her ears as she lies alone, and Elsa’s not sure whether to welcome the respite or curse the abandonment.

As if on cue, the patter of tiny feet creeps up to her bed and lures her back to the world. Her taut brow follows the source, then softens when she recognizes a blue and purple salamander approaching with caution. It pauses once their gazes meet and cocks its head like a puppy, staring up at her with big, gleaming eyes. 

“Bruni?” she asks, rising to get a better look. “What are you doing here?”

The fire spirit only blinks at her, tilting his head to the opposite side with a knowing expression.

“You came here to be with me . . . ?”

Bruni confirms by hopping and spinning in place, then returns to her with a wide, toothless grin.

“How’d you get even across the sea, little guy?”

He proudly flicks his tongue out and licks one eyeball in response.

“I still don’t know what that means,” Elsa chuckles. The sound buzzes through her head, and she realizes she can’t remember the last time she heard herself laugh. It’s hard to keep a straight face around Bruni, though. He’s always been a pleasant surprise; squishy and loveable, carrying a spark that never fails to crack through a heavy spirit like hers.

She gently waves him over and watches him approach with scurried excitement; pausing every so often to survey her with his neck stretched out, and only continuing when she coaxes him closer. Elsa settles back in on her side as he nears, one arm clutching the stuffed penguin and the other resting by her head. Once Bruni has scaled the cushions, she sprinkles flurries for him to catch on his tongue as he nestles in the crook of her elbow. After they’re settled, her heart beams at the sight of the tiny creature snuggled up against her. 

“Thank you, Bruni,” she whispers. 

He cozies up even further, punctuating the movement with a content chirp, then flashes one last, twinkling smile before closing his eyes. Unable to afford herself the same luxury, Elsa spends time basking in the warmth kissing her skin where he rests. Eventually, the world begins to shrink around her and takes her mind with it. Soon, there is no more glacier and no more memories; just the tender furs beneath her, forgiving yarn in her grasp, a warm scarf hugging her shoulders, and the kind perfume of lavender whispering her eyes shut. 

Her mind and body ease up just a little, just enough. And for the first time in days, Elsa feels sort of, maybe, like she could, at some point, be almost okay again.

* * *

_ “Hello?” _

A grumble scrapes its way up Elsa’s throat at the intrusion. She rubs her crusty eyelids open with a fist, prompting sapphire grooves of ice to sharpen into focus around her. It’s hard to tell how long she’s been out, but the muddy ick in her bones screams that it definitely wasn’t long enough.

_ “Hello?” _ she hears again. _ “Are you there?” _

The voice sparks an urgency inside her this time, shoving exhaustion to the back of her mind as she scoops Bruni into her palm and springs up.

“Honey?” she calls out, stumbling through her grogginess, drunken eyes scouring the cavern. The voice is so clear, so _ close; _like Honey actually conquered the Dark Sea and became the only other person to meet the frozen shoreline of Ahtohallan. It’s an impossible feat, of course, unless—

_ “Nokk?” _

Standing vigilant in her palm, Bruni’s gaze points behind Elsa. She spins and feels all her forgone exhaustion plummet back like an avalanche, discovering nothing but a frosted echo of the person she most longs to see.

Blind to Elsa’s presence, the snowy memory of Honey kneels down, leaning over with her eyes fixed on the ground as she speaks.

_ “Nokk, please. Answer me.” _

Elsa watches her gently dip her hand into the floor, prompting ice to ripple around her touch as if it were water.

_ “Listen,” Honey continues, returning her hand to her lap, “I’m sure you know this already, but Elsa and I got into a fight the other day and I feel . . . awful. About everything. I know it’s a lot to ask, but you wouldn’t be able to take me to her, would you?” _

Elsa freezes with the memory as they await Nokk’s answer, but it doesn’t take long for her to infer that the surrounding silence is precisely that. After coming to the same realization, Honey heaves out a crushed sigh in front of her. 

_ “I figured,” she says solemnly. “I’m really worried, though . . . Is she okay, at least?” _

Elsa’s gaze pierces the glacier as the silence persists, glaring at Ahtohallan for offering no reassurance in the memory’s present. The concern staining Honey’s voice chisels away at the remnants of Elsa’s weakened spirit, now forcing her to grasp the depth of pain endured in her absence.

It’s a feeling toward herself Elsa hadn’t considered. Anger? Sure. Resentment? Of course. But . . . _ worry? _ The possibility hadn’t crossed her mind. She was certain Honey would want her gone after everything that transpired, but the shaky breath that slips from the memory kneeling before her says otherwise.

_ “Well, would you mind passing on a message for me?” Honey asks, but doesn’t wait for a response before pressing on, “Please, if you're listening, tell her I miss her . . . I shouldn’t have left things the way I did. I feel like I’m going crazy without her here and I—” _

Elsa’s heart all but stops beating as she watches Honey’s lips hang open with a thought simmering on her tongue. She never gets to hear it, though, because Honey screws her eyes shut and swallows hard before allowing her mouth to open again.

_ “I just really want to see her,” she whispers. _

A numbness spreads through Elsa as Honey lingers, meekly stroking the token on her wrist with a faraway look. Finally, and without a word, she runs her fingers through the water once more before rising, bearing an unmistakable heaviness in her gaze. Honey’s sunken figure evaporates as she turns away, leaving Elsa alone as ever inside the achingly barren glacier. 

Without missing a beat, a tiny nudge in her palm reminds her she’s not the only one there, and Elsa looks down to find Bruni holding her in a delicate stare. After nuzzling his head against her hand, the spirit shifts his attention to the nearby passage that leads to the shoreline, then returns to her with begging eyes.

Understanding the unspoken request, Elsa relents with a nod.

“Okay, we’ll go back,” she vows, sight now set on the path waiting to reunite her with the world she belongs in, and the person she belongs with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been drafting this pretty much since the beginning and went through countless first kiss scenarios before landing on this one. I’d really love to hear what you thought! Hopefully I did it justice. I don't know about you, but I am beyond ready for these two idiots to make up.
> 
> Personal note: Life is still rough. I’m not sure when the next update will be, but it seems these longer gaps will be the norm for the foreseeable future, unfortunately. Please know that I intend to finish this fic no matter how long it takes, though.
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading and for being patient with me between updates. I really appreciate the kind words and they’re always what keeps me pushing through. I hope you’re all staying safe out there.


	13. Els

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I didn’t plan to have an update so soon, but it turns out that writing is a million times easier when past and present aren’t interacting. This chapter is _much_ shorter than the others, but I decided these moments should stand alone to lead into the next one.

A spritely gust of wind greets Elsa at the entrance, tousling her freshly combed hair and tickling her cheeks until she unfolds with a smile. 

“I missed you too, Gale,” she chuckles. The air swirls around her in a frenzy, wrapping her in a distinct embrace only the wind spirit can offer: firm and open, chilly yet warm. The kind of hug that makes Elsa want to hug herself. 

Once Gale releases her hold, Elsa squints through the stinging light bouncing off the glacier to find the clear figure of a horse poised and waiting on the sea’s surface. Doubt floods her senses, cementing her in place as she watches the murky waves wash up around the water spirit. The moment she mounts, there’s no turning back. Nokk won’t let her. She can feel it in that stoic, unmoving stare of his. 

Try as she might to mute the rising cold within her, it spills out anyway. The already-frozen ground crackles under her feet, prompting a streak of fresh frost to creep steadily toward the shoreline bearing a mind of its own. Nokk’s translucent body shimmers into solid as the chill meets his hooves, rendering him free to step onto the ice. He moves forward, slow and subdued, keeping a careful gaze fixed on the frozen woman at the entrance. It’s only when he reaches her that he kneels, bowing his head in a silent offering. Elsa merely blinks at him, still paralyzed by fear.

Gale doesn’t push her, but extends one last, gentle sweep through her hair, just strong enough to remind her she’s there. Quiet feet climb up from the end of Elsa’s rigid shoulder, and she feels a warm head nuzzle into the side of her neck. Bruni’s throat clicks softly against her, easing the storm in her mind with each low purr.

A whisper of hope crests in her ribs and doesn’t falter this time, reviving the one truth she’d almost lost sight of: 

Sometimes, two palms are not enough to hold everything she is. 

These spirits are her deliverance, yielding relief when her knees begin to buckle under the weight that is her own. Because, in truth, souls are not meant to be carried alone. Not even spirits. Not even Elsa’s.

A final, decisive breath from within is what pushes her forward. With one step, she cracks her chest open, hands herself over, and resolves to let Nokk carry these vital pieces wherever they need to be.

* * *

Wisps of stray petals and leaves drift beside Elsa as she makes her way through the forest on foot, focusing on the soothing ticks radiating from the salamander perched on her shoulder, and listening to Nokk’s presence chime in the river nearby. 

The sun towers high above the trees, drawing out the colors of the surrounding growth in abundance; dense and luscious greens, speckled with playful petals of every hue, all framed by the ashen white of the birches. Mouthwatering soil crunches beneath her feet; a deep, rich sweetness feeding her strides. It’s hard to explain, but the forest feels brighter, somehow. Something inside of Elsa seems to bloom along with it as she moves. 

Her present goal is a simple one: to keep her return as unobtrusive as possible. Should anyone aside from Honey have noticed her absence, she’d rather not be forced to swallow the events of her recent days. That bitter taste of lying is enough to make her stomach lurch at the moment. 

When pointed huts begin to peek through the woods, Elsa reflexively tugs her sleeve over the leather bracelet on her wrist. Part of her knows she shouldn’t have worn it to begin with, but the other part of her couldn’t bear to leave it behind. It is a token of warmth, after all; it belongs _ with _ her, not tucked away in the depths of some distant glacier.

Still, she strokes the gift through the ice-woven fabric of her dress, making a feeble attempt to quell the blood hammering her veins as the village nears. Just as she readies herself to step into the clearing and make a beeline for Honey’s hut, a sound stops her.

“Elsa!”

It’s then that she realizes the only real voice she’s heard in days is her own. Gulping the air, she turns to see Ryder barreling toward her, face alight with shock and stretching further with each pace.

“Elsa! You’re back!” A reckless hug slams into her, the force nearly knocking Bruni to the ground as his broad shoulders smother her frame. “Thank the spirits you’re okay,” he gushes breathlessly into her hair. “I was so worried.” 

“You were?”

His arms tighten. “Of course I was! We both were. I looked for you every day since Mare couldn’t.”

Elsa breaks his grasp with an urgent look. “Wait, _ what?” _

“Maren’s been sick. I found her sitting by the river in the pouring rain the other day,” Ryder huffs, rolling his eyes, “You know how she is . . .”

“Is_ — _ is she okay, though?” Elsa asks, voice taut with concern.

“Oh yeah,” he chuckles, “back to her usual, frustrating self, I’m afraid.”

She relaxes with a laugh before sinking into a frown, hands twisting all the while. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“I’m just really glad you’re back,” he says, then wrings his neck, a thought brewing beneath his eyes. “Listen . . . I, um, wanna apologize for the other day. I had_ no _ idea you’d be in there. I didn’t know about any of it. I was just trying to get my token, honest.” He pauses, glancing at her hands with a sobered expression before lowering his voice. “Your secret’s safe with me, though, alright? I promise.”

Elsa returns an awkward nod, rendered wordless by the matter. Seeming to understand, he nudges her shoulder, offering a warm grin. “And for what it’s worth,” he adds, “I was kinda rooting for you two anyway.”

The reassurance sparks a faint smile. Ryder looks on as Elsa raises one arm to brush loose strands of hair behind her ear, prompting the sleeve of her dress to sag just low enough to unearth the bracelet. 

“Wait, where’d you get that?” he asks, stunned and gawking at the symbols.

Elsa follows his gaze with a furrowed brow, sucking in a sharp gasp once she notices her fallen sleeve. “Honey—uh—Maren gave it to me,” she mumbles, clumsily yanking the fabric to cover it.

Ryder’s hands stop her, gently clutching her arm to get a better look. “Do you know what this is?” he asks, much too serious for her comfort. 

“Um, she called it a token of warmth,” Elsa mutters, shaking out of his grip.

“That’s all she said?”

“Pretty much.” She rubs her hand on her thigh and takes a stiff breath in. “Look, can we just skip to the part where you tell me what’s going on?”

“Elsa . . .” Ryder sighs, “we make those for people we love. _ Really _ love.”

The word pounds in Elsa’s chest, scorching her cheeks with a potent red. “What?”

“It’s a symbol of deep love,” he elaborates, “We don't give them to just anyone. It's a sacred tradition here.”

“Maren said you can give them to anyone close to you,” she reasons, fighting to keep her tone steady. 

“Well, yeah, it’s meant for any kind of love, but it’s custom to only ever give one,” he explains. “Most people save them for their partners and kids. Our parents gave us theirs, and Mare gave hers to you.”

Seconds pass in blinks as the revelation settles in. Ryder watches Elsa closely, unable to decipher the hollow look on her face as she clings to herself, dissecting the token as if it were a puzzle.

“She . . . loves me?”

He gapes at her, almost scowling in disbelief. “Are you actually asking me that?” 

Dazed silence paired with the ache in her gaze tells Ryder that Elsa actually _ is _ asking him that. He leans back, dumbfounded by the realization. “Wait, Maren’s _ seriously _ never told you she loves you?”

“Never,” she murmurs, then looks up. “Did she say anything to you?” 

“I mean, she never said the word but jeez, Elsa, I could hear it.”

Her voice continues to shrink. “I don’t get it. Why wouldn’t she tell me?”

The reason buzzes on Ryder’s tongue, but he swallows it. “Well, have you told her?” he asks instead, already certain of the answer.

“No.” She shakes her head solemnly. “I haven’t.”

“Well, I think you two have a lot to talk about, then,” he says flatly. 

Elsa meets his stern eyes, their blue more piercing than ever as he scrutinizes her. Unable to hold their weight, she looks away, then deflates with a sigh. “Yeah, I think we do.”

Ryder chews on his response, contemplating with a long glance at the village before finally speaking up. “Mare’s at home right now, but she’s leaving in a little bit,” he says, still calculating his move. “She wants to drop by Yelena’s to see Nina and the kids before heading over to the bridge—you know, the usual . . .”

“Right, yeah, of course,” Elsa falters. The words drip into the soil, having nowhere else to go.

“. . . but it’s not too late to catch her,” he adds.

Her heart leaps at the hint, eyes bouncing up to find Ryder waving his head toward the village, fighting a smirk of his own. “Get outta here,” he urges. “Go talk about your feelings with my sister or whatever it is you kids do.” 

A giggle spills from her mouth before she can stop it. Elsa holds his gaze for a long moment, beaming with sincerity. 

“Thank you, Ryder,” she whispers.

His mouth curls up, flashing a boundless, rosy, distinctly _ Ryder _ grin as he gives her shoulder another friendly nudge. 

“Anytime, Els.”

Straightening his fur-lined cap, he clears his throat and offers a final nod before turning away. Elsa watches him weave through the trees, appreciation swelling in her chest and threatening to break her open again.

Els.

He’s never called her that. No one has, come to think of it; not Honey, not her parents, not even Anna. The name floats in the air like a quiet blessing when he says it, but that blessing sinks when a sharp tug at Elsa’s scalp pulls her back to the forest. 

Bruni spits the blond hair from his mouth and gestures toward the village, anxious eyes jittering between her and the tiny, weathered hut in the distance. A shiver ripples under her skin as she remembers the task at hand; the daunting conversation waiting on the other side of the clearing. But the soft breeze through her hair reminds her of the gentle voice that waits along with it. 

She’s close. So, very close. 

And so, with another daring breath, Elsa presses on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! No idea how this chapter will be taken or how evident the love thing was through the writing (I tried to plant hints but I don’t use a beta so it’s hard to tell). I’d love to hear your thoughts.
> 
> (Also, I revamped the tags and summary to be more accurate for the overall story. We've still got lots and lots of stuff ahead).
> 
> Thank you for reading! <3


	14. And the Day After That

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, friends. I know I’ve left you waiting for a cruel amount of time, so I’ll spare you the rambling upfront. A personal update can be found in the end note. That said, please enjoy the moment we’ve been waiting five chapters for!

Her loose fist hovers over the mismatched wood of the door. Honey is there, just five knocks away, but Elsa can’t shake the emptiness haunting her now that Bruni has scurried off into the woods. 

She relaxes her hand and lets it fall; fingers twisting into tangled vines at her waist. The possibility of being noticed again creeps in, and Elsa peers over her shoulder at the village, finding just enough figures in the distance to lift her arm back up. 

Air crams into her lungs when her skin meets the rough grain. She knocks precisely five times, mimicking the same rhythm Anna tapped against her own door as a child, only to be met with detachment and rejection each time. 

As she stands outside of Honey’s home, it strikes Elsa that she may find herself in the same position now—and what a cruel position to be in, she thinks. Each second stings while she waits for the slightest trace of sound or movement. There’s nothing to do but berate herself and wonder just how deep the scars of her neglect tore through Anna in those early years.

Seconds pass like hours in total silence, filled only by the low hums of the forest as the barrier in front of her remains untouched. She looks up at the sun, then down at her shadow, inspecting their placements with unwavering focus. Just as she begins to accept that she may be too late, she hears the familiar, muffled sound of the lock flipping up. 

The crack in the frame grows wider, and thunder erupts in Elsa’s chest as the door finally, _ finally _ opens.

Everything seems to still when Honey’s eyes lock onto hers. Their chests heave with a blend of panic and relief as they study each other. Honey stands rigid and bewildered, as if faced with a ghost. The jagged edge in her usually gentle gaze sends a pang of guilt through Elsa, one strong enough to clear her throat and prompt her to speak first.

“Hi, um—” she shifts in place, glancing nervously at the village. “may I come in . . . ?”

Honey blinks out of her trance. “Yeah! Yeah, of course,” she sputters, moving aside to make room. 

With arms locked firmly around herself, Elsa steps through the frame. Fire burns steadily inside the hut, casting its radiance onto every surface. An undertone of daylight glows throughout the space, but disappears the moment the door shuts behind Honey. Elsa turns toward the sound, feeling her muscles relax upon watching Honey check the lock as she always does. Or _ usually _ does.

The comfort dissipates and silence consumes the room. Honey turns to face her, still lingering by the door to keep a painfully respectable distance. One hand twitches at her side.

“Can I— can I hug you?”

It’s a shrunken, uncertain voice that leaves her. Elsa’s heard her like this before, but to know that _ she _ is the reason Honey sounds so small carves right though her, stomping deep, blistering footprints into her chest.

Elsa nods. 

She nods because this is Honey.

She nods because _ of course. _

Before she can take a breath, a body crashes into her, and Honey’s arms constrict tightly around her frame. Elsa goes stiff at first, taken aback by the power and urgency of the hold. However, it’s not long before warm breaths skim her neck, coaxing her to slide her arms around Honey and melt.

She stays like this for a while, weaving dark hair between her fingers and basking in the comforting blend of woodsmoke and leather soaked into it. It’s not until Honey’s voice cracks against her skin that she feels her stomach drop. 

“I was so worried,” Honey whimpers. “I didn’t know where you’d gone or what you’d done.”

“I didn’t mean to worry you so much.”

Honey squeezes her tighter. “I’m just happy you’re here.”

“You’re _ happy _ . . . ?”

She pulls back, glaring as if she could smack Elsa. “Of course I am!”

“But everything the other day . . .”

Her face softens and she cups Elsa’s cheeks, letting her thumbs run soothing lines along her jaw. “All of that still happened, and we need to talk about it, but . . . Elsa. I’ll always be happy to see you and know you’re okay.”

Her words are only met with a gulp.

“Come here,” Honey whispers, arms moving to blanket Elsa once more. The contact seems to pull the world back into place. There’s a certain grace inside her hold this time, a quiet kindness in her touch, one that tells Elsa she's already forgiven.

Forgiven by Honey’s standards, maybe, but certainly not her own. 

The thought breaks her.

“I’m so sorry,” she weeps. “I know you don’t want to hear that, but I am. I’m sorry. For almost hitting you. For the door. For freezing. For disappearing. For everything . . .” Her regrets drip onto Honey’s shoulder as she clings to her. “I’m sorry, Honey,” she echoes. “I’m so sorry.”

Through her sealed vision, Elsa feels the arms around her loosen again, followed by the tingle of soft lips on her forehead. She opens to a brittle smile plastered on Honey’s face. Her voice follows, now low and heavy with shame. 

“I’m sorry, too,” she says softly. “For yelling and for touching you . . . but mostly for leaving . . .” Guilt drags her eyes to the ground. “I’m so, _ so _sorry, Elsa. I can’t believe I left you like that. I hate that I did.”

“Hey,” Elsa whispers, nudging her chin up, then planting a gentle kiss on her cheek. “You’re here now.”

Honey’s eyes glisten with regret while her mouth trembles into a weak grin. This time, Elsa is the one to pull her back in. She keeps a steady hold, doing her best to swathe her in the same forgiveness afforded to her. And she stays this way for as long as it takes, until she feels the sunken figure in her arms begin to relax. 

“How are you feeling?” she asks as she leans back. 

Honey tilts her head as she wipes her eyes dry. “Hmm?” 

“Ryder said you were sick.” 

“Oh.” She blinks. “I’m better.” 

Silence thickens between them, but Elsa holds her gaze firmly, heart hammering in her chest while Honey’s confusion runs its course.

“You talked to Ryder . . . ?” she mumbles eventually.

Elsa nods. “I ran into him on my way over.”

“Oh.”

“Is everything alright with you two?”

“Mhmm,” Honey squeaks. “We talked about what happened. He came back for his token the other day.”

“Yeah, that’s what he said.”

Her eyes fall to the ground and Elsa waits; for what, though, she’s not quite sure. But she lets the two of them sit in that unsettling stillness, simmering with questions. Seconds pass as she wonders if Honey will offer up anything else, but knows somewhere deep in her chest that she won’t.

“He saw my token, too,” Elsa confesses.

Honey’s gaze springs up, wide with worry. “He did?”

“He did,” she confirms, fighting to keep her voice leveled. “Not on purpose, but he did. And he told me what it means.”

Realization sets in Honey’s face, every line taut with a feeling Elsa can’t quite pinpoint. It’s somewhere between guilt and panic, she theorizes, but there’s something beyond even that. Her face feels almost bruised as she looks on. Her eyes ache.

Elsa’s next thought leaves her before she can stifle it:

“You love me?” 

Honey winces as if she’s been punched in the gut. The pain inside her gaze grows stronger, brimming the edge of her mouth until it finally overflows. 

“Of course I do.”

The words barely scrape their way up Honey’s throat, but they ring in Elsa’s ears like an explosion, ricocheting through every corner of her mind. Beyond that cacophony, the air falls quiet as a snowy night around them. 

“Why didn’t you say it before?” Elsa asks.

Honey breathes a laugh. “You think I didn’t want to? I wanted to shout it from the treetops, Elsa. But I couldn’t say it to anyone. Not even my own brother. And especially not to you.” 

“You could’ve told me,” she insists.

“No, I _ couldn’t _.”

“Why’s that?”

Honey’s lip whitens between her teeth as she gnaws on her answer. “Because,” she mutters, “you think it’s wrong.”

Elsa’s brow wrinkles. “What?”

“This,” Honey gestures between them, “You think this is wrong, Elsa. You think _ you’re _ wrong. And if you’re wrong, then . . . I’m wrong, too.” She clamps her eyes shut, willing her trembling voice on. “And if we’re both wrong, then saying that would only make what we’re doing worse.”

The truth hits Elsa like a tidal wave. All at once, she sees what has happened, what’s_ happening, _ and the realization shatters her. She doesn’t know how everything shifted so quickly, but now, as she watches Honey’s bare hands knot together, she can only see herself. Not who she is, but who she was: calculated movements fueled by nothing but doubt. A narrow voice drenched in shame. A heart that hides from the world, and also from itself.

“Honeymaren.”

She waits for their gazes to meet, but Honey’s eyes never rise from the ground. 

“Honeymaren,” she repeats. “I do _ not _think you are wrong.”

Honey’s head snaps up. “Then why can’t you say the same about yourself?”

“I— I don’t know,” Elsa murmurs. “It’s different with you.” 

“How? _ How _is it different, Elsa? How can you accept me, then turn around and hate yourself for the same thing?”

Elsa blinks until the answer rolls off her tongue: “In the same way you can tell me I’m not a burden, but spend every moment beating yourself up for being given what you need.”

Another silence devours the room. Honey’s sways as if she’s been knocked backward, chest filling with air that can’t seem to find its way out again. Slowly, Elsa takes a step toward her. 

“I have never, for one _ second, _ felt ashamed of you,” she vows, reaching to untangle Honey’s hands and weave them in her own. 

“That’s not how it felt the other day,” she mumbles, swerving away from the contact.

Swallowing hard, Elsa lets her hands fall. “I know, and I’m sorry for that.” she says, trying to mask the ache in her voice. “I should’ve stopped to think about you. It’s just that . . . Ryder opening the door felt exactly like the moment Anna took my glove off. I wasn’t ashamed of you, Honey. I was scared. _ More _ than scared. The last time something like that happened, I was thrown in prison. I was almost killed. And Anna . . .” 

Her voice fades and the memory consumes her. Honey watches her eyes stray further away from her own, lost in a waking nightmare. She considers intervening, but before she can offer any shred of comfort, Elsa makes her return, collecting herself in a few deep breaths. 

“What I mean is, the way I reacted had everything to do with me and nothing to do with you.” she continues, catching her gaze in a hold so steady that even Honey doesn’t want to look away. Reluctantly, Elsa reaches out to her still-tangled hands, and her heart soars when her skin meets Honey’s warmth. She keeps her grip loose enough to let her slip away if she needs to, but her hands stay this time. Honey stays. 

With each following word, Elsa draws her in closer. “You are everything to me,” she whispers. “I love you, Honeymaren. I loved you yesterday, and I love you today, and I will love you tomorrow—”

“And the day after that?” 

“And the day after that.” Elsa smiles. 

Tear filled laughter dances softly between them, only ceasing when their lips meet for the first time in days. Their fingers unravel with each breath, and Elsa rests her hands on the back of Honey’s neck to lure her further in. The recent days mark nothing but lost time that each of them are desperate to redeem, fueling their movements with a temperate sort of urgency. They eventually will themselves to part, but remain as close as possible in each others’ arms, gazes glistening with their foreheads still kissing. 

“I love you,” Honey breathes. 

“I love you, too,” Elsa sighs. 

A strange sound spills from Honey’s mouth. At first, Elsa can’t tell whether she’s laughing or crying, but the giddy smile that forms on her lips tells her everything she needs to know. 

“That feels so good to finally say,” Honey giggles.

“It really does,” Elsa hums as she cups her cheeks. With a few strokes of her thumbs, she wipes away the dampened sorrow staining her skin. The movement earns a deep sigh as Honey positively melts under her touch. 

Elsa pulls back for a moment and can’t help but chuckle adoringly at the squished face in her hands. Unable to resist, she sprinkles any part of Honey’s face that her lips will reach with gentle kisses. The tiny squeak that escapes her only makes Elsa want to kiss her more, so she indulges herself and keeps going, until Honey finally buries her head in the crook of her neck and wraps her in a snug embrace. 

“I missed you so much,” she giggles. 

“I missed you, too,” Elsa says, squeezing her tighter. 

They stay this way for a while, each savoring the steady rise and fall of the other’s chest as they breathe the recent days away together. Once it starts to feel like a distant memory, Elsa pulls back and punctuates the ordeal with a final peck on Honey’s cheek, relieved to have the worst of it behind them now. But when she meets Honey’s gaze again, there’s a new weight behind it. Her eyes continue to ache, freshly sodden with a burden Elsa can’t place, and her lips quiver as if she might vomit. 

“What does this mean for us now . . . ?” she asks weakly. “I— I don’t think I can keep pretending that I don’t love you.”

Without missing a beat, Elsa’s hands return to her face. “I’ve been thinking about that, actually,” she soothes, wiping her tears away once more. “And I suppose, since Ryder knows and things are different in the forest . . . maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if everyone else here knows, too.”

The suggestion pushes Honey back. “Are you ready for that?”

“No,” she shrugs with a chuckle, “but I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.”

“Elsa, I don’t want you to—”

“I can do this much,” she interrupts and steps forward. Her hands come to rest firmly on Honey's shoulders, then trail down her arms until their fingers are entwined. “And I _ want _ to do it,” she reassures. “You’ve sacrificed so much for me, and for so long. It’s my turn now.” 

Her words are met with stillness while Honey blinks at the ground. Elsa gives her hands a gentle squeeze and asks, “Is that okay?”

With a gulp, Honey offers a reluctant nod, then sniffles as Elsa thanks her with a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“I can’t promise the same for Arendelle, though,” she adds, firm but treading carefully. “That needs to happen on my own time, in my own way. Just once, I should get a say in how things happen. I deserve that much.”

To her relief, the resolve in her voice earns an affectionate smile. Honey marvels at her for a long moment before leaning in to press warm, soft lips to her cheek. “You really do,” she whispers against her. 

Elsa lets out a deep breath as she pulls away, but the breath never seems to stop. It’s not until her face scrunches into a big yawn that Honey notices how absolutely exhausted she is. She’d been so blinded by her presence that she hadn’t taken the time to actually _ see _ her until now. Every part of Elsa looks so unbelievably heavy, from her sunken eyes to her strained breathing to her sagging frame. 

“Sweetheart, when was the last time you slept?” 

“Just this morning.” 

“A _ full _night,” she clarifies. 

The restless hours pile up in Elsa’s mind. Her gaze drifts down to the pelts. “The night I spent with you . . .”

Honey lets out a sad sigh and begins delicately carding through her hair. “More dreams?”

A slow nod moves under her touch. 

“Anna?”

“No,” Elsa says, watching Honey’s eyes narrow in the silence. The truth crawls out of her mouth in something short of a whisper:

“You.” 

Confusion floods Honey’s face at first, but when she spots Elsa glancing at the door, she finally understands. 

“I hit you instead of the door,” Elsa explains, voice trembling. “And everything that happened to Anna started happening to you. Except, I couldn’t stop it . . .”

“You didn’t hit me, Elsa,” Honey reminds her. 

“Yet.”

“And you’re not _ going _ to,” she adds.

“You can’t_ know _that.”

“Maybe not,” Honey admits, “but I can feel it, and I trust that feeling. I just wish you could do the same.” She lets out a sad huff, then takes Elsa’s hands in hers. “Listen, why don’t you stay here today? I don’t want you being all alone.”

“I’ll go with you to the bridge,” Elsa suggests. 

Honey is quick to correct her. “No, you’re going to rest here while _ I _ go to the bridge.”

“But I should help,” she insists. “I missed a few days.”

“You can help tomorrow, once you’re rested. I’ll stay until you fall asleep and check back later, okay?”

Elsa frowns. “But Ryder said you wanted to see your cousins before you go today. I don’t want to keep you from them . . .”

“I’ll see them at dinner tonight,” Honey assures, “but I’d much rather see you get some sleep right now.”

Elsa wrings out a long, defeated sigh, feeling much too tired to argue. Exhaustion doesn’t even begin to describe the feeling that’s been festering inside her for days. She glances down at the furs, which look so welcoming, they may as well be using her mother’s melodic voice to call her to them. She relents with a quiet nod, but Honey is already ten steps ahead of her. 

“Here, get comfy,” she says, returning with the same green sweater and brown pants from the other day, now fresh and neatly folded. Elsa takes them without a word, then dissolves her dress with a wave of her hand. After throwing them on, she tugs at the fabric now awkwardly hugging her neck. 

“I think it’s backwards,” Honey points out, but Elsa can’t bring herself to respond. Fatigue far obscures her desire to care or fix anything at this point. Another yawn drags her body down, and she lets out a cozy sigh as the furs tickle her cheeks. Honey settles in next to her, gently pulling a woven blanket over them, followed by another pelt, then topping it off by blanketing Elsa in her arms. 

Between the warmth and softness enveloping her, Elsa’s fairly certain she’s completely melded to the ground. Not even all the chocolate in the world could rouse her now. She curls up on her side, relishing in the soothing pressure of Honey’s embrace. Her eyes droop further down with each blink, but she selfishly puts up a fight, determined to keep them open and stare at Honey just a little bit longer.

“You know, people usually have to close their eyes to sleep.”

“I haven’t seen you in daaays,” Elsa mumbles, utterly drunk on exhaustion. A clumsy hand bumps into Honey’s cheek. “Imissedyourbeautifulface.”

“That’s very sweet,” Honey giggles. “But you know what I missed?”

“What?”

“Watching _ your _ beautiful face fall asleep.” She takes Elsa’s hand, pressing a tender kiss into her palm before setting it back on the furs. Then, without a word, she brings her own hand to Elsa’s face and begins gently stroking the bridge of her nose, finding far too much enjoyment in watching her eyes flutter right on cue.

“Not fair . . .” Elsa whines.

“It’s _ totally _ fair. You think you’re the only one who gets to use this trick? Keep dreaming.”

“I’d rather not,” she deadpans.

“I know,” Honey amends with a chuckle. “I hope you don’t. And if you do wake up before I’m back, you know where to find me.” Her movements pause just long enough for her to lean in and press one last kiss to her forehead. “Sweet dreams, Sweetheart.”

With each stroke of her finger, Elsa grows weaker and weaker in the battle against her eyelids. She lasts maybe another minute at most before finally accepting defeat and letting them fall shut. Her breaths grow slower and deeper, and Honey’s lips curl when tiny snores begin buzzing around her. She’s not sure if the regal and poised fifth spirit even knows she does this, but Honey thinks it’s easily one of her most adorable habits.

As captivating as watching her is, these sounds mean Elsa’s sleeping, which is precisely what she wants more than anything at the moment. Though she knows it’ll take everything in her to tear away from this bliss, Honey allows herself to soak in a few more seconds before carefully slipping out from under the covers. Her absence prompts Elsa to stir. She lets out a faint groan before curling up even further on her side, one hand tucked under her chin and the other now resting in Honey’s empty spot.

Keeping her steps light, Honey slinks about the hut, tending the fire and setting a jug filled with water near Elsa’s head. Then, she indulges herself one more time, basking in a moment she thought might never come after the incident with the door. It fills her with boundless affection to see Elsa snuggled up so comfortably in her home, as opposed to the dreadful scene she witnessed the other day. But Elsa’s never looked quite as calm as she does right now. Honey can see the peace bloom in her face as she breathes further into oblivion. She looks so untouched—younger, somehow. And it makes Honey wonder if a vast, ancient glacier could ever offer the same solace as a humble home built with abiding hands. 

Her thoughts are cut short by tiny scratches that begin scraping against the door. Muscles tense, she whips around, then heaves out a long sigh of relief once she spots the small, salamander-sized shadow at the bottom of the frame. Careful to remain quiet, she makes her way to the door, flips up the lock, and pulls it open to reveal Bruni waiting patiently behind it. 

An excited smile rises on Honey’s face at the sight of him beaming up at her with those big, goofy eyes. “Hey, buddy!” she whispers and crouches down. “I’m so happy to see you. I really missed you.”

Bruni cocks his head and chirps with delight, earning a hushed laugh. 

“What’s going on?” she asks, then watches him peer around her in Elsa’s direction. Her brows arch into a knowing look. “Mind keeping her company while I’m gone?”

Determination sparks in his gaze. A cheerful bounce speaks his answer and he wastes no time scurrying into the hut. Careful not to rouse Elsa, he circles a spot on the furs before nestling beside her head. Unable to resist, Honey allows herself to linger for another moment and drink the heartwarming sight in. 

“Keep that spot warm for me, will you?” she asks with a smirk. Just barely, she hears his throat click in agreement, and a wave of gratitude washes over her. She finally wills herself to leave, assured by the fact that, even if she’s not there, Elsa will never be alone. 

“Thanks, Bruni,” she whispers and steps out into the welcoming breeze, making certain that the door shuts softly behind her.  
  
  


* * *

When the first wave of consciousness reaches her, Elsa is convinced she’s back in Ahtohallan. It’s not until she registers the heat from the fire that she remembers where she is. Gentle rustling swims around her as she floats between sleep and awake, dipping in and out of her senses. When they finally decide to stay, her eyes flutter open to find Honey seated beside her, soaking in the warm firelight as she scrapes away at a branch. 

Her eyes find Elsa with a smirk. “Morning, sleepyhead,” she sings.

“Is it actually morning?” Elsa mumbles, squinting through her grogginess.

“No.” Honey laughs. “You have been gone to the world since I left, though. Bruni stayed with you while I was out, but he ran off once I came back. I assume he had some urgent amphibian business to attend to.”

“Certainly keeps himself busy, that one,” Elsa chuckles. “What time is it, then?”

“Late. I take it you slept well, seeing as I couldn’t wake you for the life of me.” She shakes her head, giggling under her breath. “I had to make sure you weren’t dead before I left for dinner.”

Elsa’s mouth retreats under the covers. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Honey swiftly sets her tools aside and makes her way toward a pot hanging over the fire. “Ryder graced us with his reindeer stew tonight,” she explains as she returns, bearing food and a wide grin. A bowl topped with circular flatbread is placed beside Elsa. “I saved you some before the kids devoured it.”

Half of her face still hidden, Elsa stares at the meal with guilty eyes, mentally chewing up the food and spitting it back out. Despite her day of steady rest, the nightmares continue to rot in her mouth. Even if she had felt compelled to wander beyond Ahtohallan and fend for herself during her absence, nothing would have sounded appetizing.

“It looks delicious.” She swallows hard. “Thank you, it’s just that— well . . . I’m not very hungry . . .”

Honey’s gaze narrows. “When was the last time you ate?”

Elsa tries to stay quiet, but her stomach betrays her with a low, inconveniently timed grumble.

“Mhmm. That’s what I thought.” Lips pursed, Honey sits down, then dips a piece of bread in the stew and holds it out. “Please just try. A little is better than nothing at all.”

The sincerity in her face works it’s usual magic and coaxes Elsa into taking it. She stares at it for a long moment, then begins nibbling on it while Honey resumes her carving. Despite her current aversion to eating, Elsa finds it in herself to savor the heavenly taste soaked into the bread. Ryder’s reindeer stew is the kind of meal she wishes she could erase from her memory, just so she can taste it for the first time again. Honey truly isn’t exaggerating when she sings his praises. His cooking is already delightful as is, but Elsa’s added hunger vastly enhances the experience. 

She remains on her side as she eats, feeling much too weak to sit or even prop herself up. Setting aside the spoon, she continues to absorb the broth with the flatbread and uses it to scoop up the meat and vegetables. Not wanting to overwhelm her body, she keeps her pace slow, taking frequent breaks for conversation.

“How’s the family?” she asks.

“They’re all good. Happy to hear that you’re back,” Honey answers with a smirk. “The kids really missed you. We might need to pay them a special visit soon.”

The tender appreciation in Elsa’s gaze stiffens. “Did you tell them?” she asks hesitantly. “About us?”

“No.” She shrugs without looking up. “I can if you want me to. It won’t be a big deal, but I figured you might want some say in it.”

“Oh,” Elsa mutters. “Thanks for that.” 

Honey flashes her a heartfelt smile. “Of course.”

With her thoughts in a frenzy, Elsa returns to grazing on her meal in silence, eyes fixed on Honey but never quite reaching her. She hadn’t worked out how they’d navigate being together in the forest while maintaining their friendly image in Arendelle. Fear engulfs her skin like overgrown thorns as the possible outcomes cycle through her mind. 

Honey’s movements come to a halt and she meets Elsa with another warm grin, as if she’s heard every thought. “We’ll worry about all that later,” she reassures. “Right now, I’m just happy you’re here.”

“Me too,” Elsa whispers, wearing that same affection as she watches Honey return to her handiwork. After a few more bites of dinner, her body reaches its fill. She nudges the unfinished bowl away but doesn’t try to spark more conversation, choosing to snuggle further into the blankets instead, completely content to lie in this stillness and admire the ease with which Honey unearths the flute hidden inside the branch. 

Eventually, a rhythmic knock at the door prompts Honey to spring up. Elsa’s eyes follow her as she flips up the lock, already knowing who’s waiting on the other side. 

“Heyyy, she’s awake!” Ryder cheers as he steps in. “How’d you sleep?”

“Like a rock, apparently,” Elsa chuckles. At first, it’s odd staying in place while he enters, not having to add any distance between her and Honey or find an excuse for her presence altogether. It crosses her mind that this is the first time everyone’s been together since the incident, and a twinge of embarrassment shoots through her. Yet, Ryder carries on as if nothing happened.

“Well, I hope you’re all rested up,” he says, kicking his boots off, “‘cause we’re nearing crunch time if we want the bridge finished before the festival.”

Elsa glances between the siblings. “How’s it looking?”

“Really good.” Ryder beams. 

“Good is an understatement,” Honey adds. “And it’ll be even better after you get your hands on it.”

“I feel bad for missing the past few days,” Elsa mutters.

“That makes two of us.” Honey sighs. “We’ll make it up, though.”

As Ryder and Honey go about their separate business, Elsa simply lies in place, taking in the quiet comfort their company provides. Honey’s knife carves steadily away at the flute in her hands, only wavering every so often so she can test its sound. On the opposite side of the hut, Ryder empties his leather pack and adds more wood to the fire, humming softly to himself all the while.

These simple, soothing lullabies paired with the food settling into her stomach allow her exhaustion to creep back in, still as potent as ever. Elsa’s body sinks further into the pelts, as if her day of rest had been for naught. She may as well have run to Arendelle and back on foot with how depleted she feels. A yawn escapes her as her eyes begin to sag, but a shy tap on her arm yanks her back to the room. 

“Wait for me,” Honey whispers, abandoning her tools with haste and shedding her tunic to reveal a wool sweater. “Is it okay if I take the pelt?”

Elsa squints at her. “Huh?”

“If I take the pelt and you keep the blanket,” she explains as she lets her braid down, keeping her voice low in an attempt to maintain some shred of privacy.

“Oh, are you not sleeping here . . . ?” Elsa asks, eyeing the spot beside her. 

Honey shoots a glance at her brother. “Uh, I mean— I can. I just didn’t know if you’d want . . .”

“Well, you don’t have to if you don’t—”

“Will you two just _ shut up _ and cuddle already?” Ryder groans, rolling his eyes. “I literally do not care.”

Their faces spring into embarrassed smiles. Giggling under her breath, Elsa lifts up the covers and nods Honey over. Another strange feeling seeps in as she slides into her spot, careful to keep a respectable distance. Though Ryder’s attention is clearly elsewhere, discomfort tugs at the back of Elsa’s mind. But she considers all the instances in which Honey must have felt the same about having to keep her distance, like she probably is at this very moment. So, Elsa decides to reach through those worries and pull Honey close. 

She flattens on her back, guiding Honey’s head to her chest before weaving her arms around her. “Love you, Honey,” she says, pressing a gentle kiss into her hair. 

The contact prompts Honey to snuggle as far into Elsa’s side as possible, tightening her grasp and tangling their legs until the two are nothing but a cozy, jumbled mess. “Love you, Sweetheart,” she whispers. 

“Aw, shucks,” Ryder chimes in, bashfully waving them off. “I love you guys, too.”

Honey merely rolls her eyes, but Elsa can’t contain the laughter that begins pouring out of her. Though the sleeping arrangements have altered slightly, this night feels just like any other night with Honey and Ryder. Their antics never fail to make her feel like she fits perfectly into the flow of their evenings. Conversation never feels like a chore, and silence never feels like a curse. 

A certain, unfamiliar warmth spreads under her skin as her laughter eases up. She squeezes Honey tight and wishes Ryder goodnight, relieved to know that, even though so much has changed in recent days, this tiny corner of her life remains whole and untouched. Here in their quaint little home, there is, quite literally, no room to hide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words cannot express how fucking thrilled I am to be at this point. I missed writing. I missed them. I know I was gone for a long time, but I hope this and everything after will have been worth the wait, because I’m so excited for the next chapter. 
> 
> Personal update:  
I’ve had a lot going on in the time I’ve been gone (starting counseling, going on and off new meds, general mental health stuff, etc). I had started to get into writing mode a while back, then had a family emergency directly after a trauma anniversary. Everything is okay now (thankfully), but it was pretty triggering and took a big toll on my mental health. I always feel strange when I give such a personal update during a fic, but I wanted to let you all know where I’m at and why I was gone for so long. 2020 is an absolute dumpster fire, but that’s old news. 
> 
> Thank you so much for your patience between this and my last update, and a special thank you to everyone who took time to leave words of encouragement during my absence. I appreciate them so much and they really helped keep me going. I’m sorry I left so many of you on read with the last chapter. I usually try to reply to every comment, but I just didn’t have it in me, and also felt bad for having been away for so long with little to show. But please know that I think about this fic every day and still very much intend to finish it. I’m so grateful for anyone still sticking with this story. 
> 
> I know the holidays are different this year, but I hope this time is as good for you as it can be and that you’re staying safe. I purposely worked to get this chapter up by Christmas. Hopefully it can be a nice little surprise for some of you. 
> 
> As always, you can find me on tumblr @doctorthedoctor. I’ve also started posting occasional progress updates in my bio on here, so feel free to check my profile occasionally if you’re wondering what’s going on. Fingers crossed I’ll see you again sooner rather than later. Take care and thanks for reading <3


	15. As Far as I Know

Sudden movement plucks Elsa from a peaceful sleep the next morning. Honeymaren twitches in her arms as the hut swims into focus. Elsa finds her still gone to the world, head resting on her chest with limbs draped across her body. Her muscles tremble against her as she sleeps, each breath sharper and heavier than the last.

“Uh oh.”

Elsa’s gaze shoots up at the words, finding Ryder frozen near the fire with a kettle in hand. Their troubled eyes meet as he sets it down, too distracted to finish hanging it over the flames. He rises and approaches them slowly, face falling further with each step. 

“This hasn’t happened in a while,” he whispers, kneeling at his sister’s back. 

Honeymaren rustles under the covers, growing increasingly restless inside Elsa’s grasp. Ryder shifts awkwardly as she holds her through the nightmare, unsure of what to do with himself as it unfolds. Usually, it’s just him when this happens. He’s never been on the other side of it, simply watching and waiting without much power to help. 

It’s reassuring that Elsa seems to have everything under control, however. She doesn’t try to wake her, just as he wouldn’t. Instead, she remains still and keeps a strong hold while the dream runs its course. As he watches, Ryder wonders how much practice Elsa’s had, given that she’s spent even more time with his sister than he originally thought. It makes him question what other information might have been withheld from him.

“It _ has _ been a while, hasn’t it?” he asks, glancing between them.

Elsa shrugs through her grogginess, seeming just as uncertain. “As far as I know.”

Ryder nods and scoots back, giving his sister the space he figures she’ll need when she inevitably startles awake. These nightmares don’t visit as often as they used to, but Honeymaren can never seem to sleep through them when they turn up. Ryder is still unsure of what exactly prompts her to wake, and whether it differs each time. He has his theories, but his sister remains adamant about keeping the details to herself. He learned early on that questions were off limits. She doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t push it. End of story.

Honeymaren’s muscles tense as her breathing grows harsher. Elsa tightens her arms and buries her lips in her hair, pressing a long kiss to her head until she finally jolts awake on her own. A sharp gasp shoots through her as she’s hurled into consciousness, but Elsa wastes no time trying to comfort her.

“Everything’s okay,” she says softly, rubbing soothing lines along her back. Honeymaren shivers in response, briefly meeting Elsa with a distant gaze before plastering her eyes shut. Gentle lips return to her head, followed by more reassurances. “You’re home. I’m here. Ryder’s here. You’re safe. We’ve got you.”

Ryder looks on sadly as she comforts her, then rises to do the only helpful thing that comes to mind. Quickly and quietly, he strides across the hut and kneels before two small wooden boxes stacked against the wall. After setting the top one aside, he lifts the lid of the one beneath, then studies it with a puzzled look, surprised to find it filled with nothing more than various little keepsakes. Squinting, he peers in his sister’s direction as she clings to Elsa, knowing precisely what to look for. As expected, the sleeve of her tunic has bunched up just high enough to reveal the leather bracelet with sage stitching on her wrist.

Something inside Ryder sinks when he sees it. It’s by no means unusual for people to wear their tokens. In fact, most wear them quite often, if not all the time. But he and Honeymaren tend to handle theirs with more caution, mostly surfacing them when their parents frequent their thoughts. It’s a rare occurrence for them to both wear them outside, as they had been when he found her by the river earlier in the week. Ryder didn’t think much of it then, considering what a taxing day that had been. Now, as he watches Honeymaren muddle through the aftermath of her nightmare, he wonders if he should have given it more thought.

Frustration simmers behind his gaze. He allows himself a long, internal sigh before setting the token box down and rising once more. Careful steps carry him back, and he kneels opposite of where he had been, intentionally facing his sister instead of sitting behind her. This is both to avoid startling her, but also to give himself a better perspective. More questions sprout in his mind as he eyes her token with a quiet, pensive look.

Oblivious to him, Elsa whispers more soothing words until Honeymaren’s breaths begin to steady against her. Once they do, her voice trails off, punctuated by another kiss into her disheveled hair. It’s only then that Ryder permits himself to speak. 

“Mare,” he says softly, “when did this start back up?”

His sister meets his knowing gaze, face plummeting once she follows it to her wrist. Without answering, she avoids him and burrows further into Elsa’s side. Ryder’s expression morphs into something more serious, rousing a firmness in his tone that wasn’t there before.

“Maren.”

“The other day,” she mumbles.

“When I walked in?”

She nods slowly, keeping her face hidden in Elsa’s neck. Ryder’s chest deflates with another soundless sigh. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“There’s nothing you can do about it, Ryde,” Honeymaren mutters. “I can deal with it myself.”

“I know you can, Mare, but that doesn’t mean you have to. Spirits’ sake, at least keep me in the loop,” he snaps, unable to suppress the next, much deeper sigh that slips out. His frustration takes everyone by surprise, himself included. Honeymaren tightens her grip around Elsa in response, prompting countless, nameless feelings to bubble in his chest. With a sad look, he chews on his lip and averts his eyes to the ground. 

Elsa quietly grips Honeymaren’s shoulder, letting her thumb glide back and forth over the rough fabric of her tunic, ticking the uncomfortable seconds away. She’s never witnessed Ryder’s patience wear so thin with his sister, or with anyone for that matter. But Elsa reminds herself that this must’ve been a considerably draining week for him, too. After all, he was the only one around for the aftermath of the incident. Not only did he assume his usual role of caring for his sister, but it was amplified when he was blindsided by a year’s worth of stifled pain. Elsa knows firsthand how helpless being in that position can feel. She understands it, sure, but easy is also the last word she’d use to describe it.

She is pulled from her thoughts when tears begin to dampen her sweater. A quick glance down reveals that Honeymaren is now crying noiselessly into her chest. Ever so slightly, she nudges Ryder’s knee with her own, drawing his attention back. Guilt deepens his frown once he spots her tears. “I’m sorry, Mare. I didn’t mean it like that,” he amends, voice thick with remorse. “It’s just hard for me to be there for you if I don’t know at least a little of what’s going on.”

They both study her, waiting for a response, but Honeymaren’s face remains buried and silent. Elsa doesn’t even glance at Ryder before taking this as her cue. “He has a point, you know,” she notes. Her words, though steeped in compassion, only prompt Honeymaren to curl up further. Still, she presses on, “Hey, even if we can’t make the bad stuff go away, Ryder and I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

Honeymaren swallows hard against her. 

Gingerly, Elsa guides her chin up so their eyes meet. “Please, we want to help however we can, but we can’t do that if we don’t know what you need,” she says, now softly cupping her cheek and catching her tears. “And if you don’t know what you need, that’s okay, but we should know that too.”

After a few thoughtful blinks, Honeymaren nods weakly in her palm.

Beside them, Ryder’s mouth curls into a grin. It doesn’t seem like much, but when his sister retreats inward, getting her to simply acknowledge help is a feat in and of itself. With every exchange, it becomes more and more clear to him that the magic Elsa brings to their lives runs much deeper than snow and ice. She’s a special kind of safe; a sanctuary for his sister that even he struggles to be sometimes. Such a thought could easily stir a sense of loss, and perhaps it does, but in a strange way, Ryder also doesn’t think he’s ever felt quite so full. 

He rises, giving Honeymaren’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze along the way. “You two stay put. I’ll get back to breakfast.”

The hut is bathed in a welcome respite as he resumes hanging the kettle over the fire. Wordlessly, Elsa’s fingers find their way to Honeymaren’s hair and begin to comb through it. Rickety breaths rattle against her every so often, but she keeps a firm grasp, pulling her closer with each aftershock. Honeymaren’s gaze remains fixed on something far beyond the walls of the hut. Still, her lids grow heavier by the second, coaxed shut by each soothing stroke of Elsa’s hand. 

“Rest some more, if you can,” Elsa whispers. “We’ll wake you when food is ready.” 

To her surprise, Honeymaren doesn’t resist. Her eyes, sunken and foggy, flutter shut the moment the words reach her, like some part of her never really woke up. Before long, her lungs relax and she melts completely into Elsa’s frame; relieved from the world, and hopefully her mind too.

Ryder glances at her, then breathes a laugh. “Jeez, Elsa, what have you done to my sister?”

Elsa flashes a doe eyed stare. “Huh?” 

“Look at her!” he chuckles, sounding almost disgusted. “She’s all soft and . . ._ mushy. _I’ve never seen her like this.”

“Really? Never?”

“Really.” He shrugs. “Not around me, at least.”

Unsure of how to respond, she remains quiet, turning the thought over in her mind. After a moment of tending the fire, Ryder leans back with a sobered face. “Listen, you know how much Mare’s been through. And for her to be like this . . . it’s a pretty big deal,” he says, gesturing to the jumbled mess that is the two of them, then continues, “I’m sure you know that already, but I dunno. I worry sometimes. Just— please promise me you’ll take care of her, okay?”

“I promise, Ryder,” Elsa vows without hesitation, holding his gaze firmly. She doesn’t offer anything more, but her eyes bear a weight that assures Ryder she understands; that his sister is safe in her arms.

“Good.” He sighs in relief, awkwardly wringing his neck. “I just wouldn’t be her brother if I didn’t ask, you know?”

“I know.” Elsa smiles softly. “You really are a good brother, Ryder. She doesn’t shut up about it.”

The comment lifts his face into a modest grin. He steals one last glance at his unusually snuggly sister before returning his focus to breakfast. At a leisurely pace, he cracks eggs onto a sizzling stone and plucks birch twigs off a branch, then adds them to the hot kettle to steep.

Elsa watches him for a little while, savoring the enticing scents that begin to saturate the air around her. Ryder never says it, but she knows he’s making a point to carry on slowly and afford Honeymaren more time to rest. She shifts her attention back to the sleeping figure in her arms, relieved to find Honeymaren still blissfully undisturbed.

The longer Elsa holds her, the more she reflects on the events that led Honeymaren to her troubled state this morning. Logically, Elsa knows no one was the sole cause for the incident with the door. She is well aware of the countless variables, but that does little to quell the nagging guilt in her chest. 

She spends a moment looking around the hut, soaking in all the cozy details and quirks she’s come to cherish about their home. It took a long while for her to understand what’s holding the mismatched wood and crooked beams together; how a small and ordinary structure can also feel so reliable and special. But now, Elsa sees this space for what it truly is, which is a testament to the love and safety that holds Honeymaren together when she needs it most.

Outside of these walls, Honeymaren remains wary of the unexpected: faint rustling, passing creatures—any sound or movement, really. She makes a point not to show it, but the fear never strays too far. Sometimes it whispers. Sometimes it shouts. And she never knows when the world might get too loud. 

Elsa’s come to understand this home is her refuge from that. Its closest neighbor is Honeymaren’s old hut, which still houses the rest of her family: her aunt and cousins and their three young children. Their hut sits at a respectable distance from the others, though. It’s quieter here, and Elsa knows that's what Honeymaren needs (even when she doesn’t want to admit it). Her home yields no surprises—or it’s not supposed to, at least. But it occurs to Elsa that this week challenged that, and in more ways than one. 

First, there was Ryder’s intrusion. Unexpected, alarming, and inevitably awkward.

And then, there was Elsa’s response to it.

Elsa’s gaze drifts to the fire, then scans the hut until it arrives at the door. There’s no trace of ice anywhere, of course. Flames burn steadily and everything remains untouched, but the frozen interior from the other day is all her mind can see. Elsa brushes though Honeymaren’s hair, imagining a dreadful white swallowing the rich brown strands between her fingers. Regardless of what Honeymaren thinks, Elsa knows that what happened to her little sister all those years ago could have happened again this week. It wouldn’t have taken much. Just one wrong maneuver at the exact wrong time.

Frost crackles in her ears as she dives deeper into her memory; watching shards fly from the door when Honeymaren yanks it open, and breathing in the soggy earth as she storms out into the rain. 

How much time did Honeymaren spend by the river that day? Long enough to make herself sick, apparently. Elsa had hoped she’d exercise enough sense to limit her exposure to the conditions, but in retrospect, where else could she have gone? These are the only walls that have seen the part of her life that includes Elsa. Honeymaren left not because she wanted to, but because her only shelter had been rendered so unwelcoming that being pelted by a downpour did less damage to her than staying. And honestly, Elsa can’t say she blames her.

She is drawn back to the room when she feels Honeymaren’s leg move. Her heart freezes at first, afraid it might indicate the start of another dream, but Honeymaren remains curled up at her side, breaths ebbing and flowing in long waves against her. The sight of her sleeping is enough to calm Elsa’s spiraling guilt. She tries to home in on that feeling, wishing she could bottle this peace and stow it away like medicine, just to be able to pour some out the next time Honeymaren might need it. Because she _ does _ need it every now and then, regardless how hard she tries to convince everyone otherwise. 

It occurs to Elsa that this must have been how Anna felt through the entirety of her reign as queen; reaching blindly to support someone who deems themself unworthy. As distinct as she and Honeymaren can be from each other, they are also more similar than Elsa ever could’ve anticipated at first glance—almost painfully so. She is well acquainted with the fears that drive Honeymaren to function the way she does, and she’s no stranger to retreating when the world becomes too loud. 

That thought kindles an idea; a way to bottle up some of that peace for Honeymaren. Elsa does, after all, owe her an anniversary gift.  This one is a bit of a risk, bold and perhaps too elaborate. Then again, Honeymaren does rouse a courage in her that otherwise collects dust. If this courage can help her return even a small fraction of the love Honeymaren pours into her, Elsa figures she might as well use it. But between Honeymaren’s ever-growing list of responsibilities and shrinking downtime, Elsa knows she won’t be able to pull it off alone.

She lies in silence, grooming the plan until it feels reasonable enough to share. After a faint whistle from Honeymaren’s nose assures Elsa she’s still in a deep resting state, she turns her attention to Ryder. 

It takes a bit of hushed negotiating to get him on board. Not because he’s opposed to her idea or unwilling to help, but because he’s smart and more mischievous than he lets on, and because he knows he has considerably more leverage with Elsa than he did just days ago. 

As it turns out, Ryder’s help comes with a price. Three passes to make Elsa speak in that ridiculous voice he uses for the reindeer, to be exact. Anytime. Anywhere. And the smug grin on his face tells her there’s a special emphasis on the fine print.

“You’re kidding,” she huffs. 

“Elsa, I have never been more serious about anything in my entire life,” he taunts in the goofy voice, keeping his expression deadpan. 

The worst part about the deal is that she can’t bring herself to even consider saying no. The incident, though uncomfortable and jarring, also seems to have cleared a path she didn’t know could exist between her and Ryder, making him feel less like a friend and more like a brother. Growing up, Elsa had always wondered what that might be like. Now, between him and Kristoff, she’s finding it to be just as playful and frustrating as she expected.

Yet, in a strange way, these childish antics feel almost sacred, and she doesn’t want to compromise that. It appears Olaf was right when he said an enchanted forest is a place of transformation. Elsa hardly recognizes herself as she relents with an unamused sigh. 

“Oh, this is gonna be _ so _ much fun,” Ryder snickers, looking far too pleased with himself.

She rolls her eyes and looks away in an attempt to ignore him, but on the inside, Elsa can feel herself smiling. Just a little. 

One gentle kiss to Honeymaren’s head is all it takes to center her. If this gift can offer a thread of the care and support she blankets Elsa with, it will have been worth whatever embarrassment Ryder inflicts on her in the future. And, in the grand scheme of existence, she supposes it won’t kill her to humor him. Hopefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, friends. Sorry it’s been so long. Life continues to be, you know, life. I know this chapter is a bit shorter compared to others, but I hope you enjoyed. It’s another one I decided should stand on its own and set up what comes next. Chapter 16 is already in progress and is one I’ve been very eager to write. 
> 
> Hope you all are doing well and continuing to stay safe. As always, thank you for reading and for the kind words. I really appreciate the support.


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